The Game is Aloof
by MoralMorgus
Summary: The 12th Doctor stumbles upon a young woman, Scarlett Bathurst, by accident. Or did he? Finding her personality strikingly similar to that of a famous-fictitious consulting detective, the Doctor takes her under his wing as he discovers her origins. Perhaps Sherlock Holmes isn't so fictitious? The Doctor investigates as the fate of mystery-literature, as we know it, may be at stake.
1. Prologue

I do not own anything. Few characters and storyline is original. All rights go to BBC Doctor Who, BBC Sherlock, CW Supernatural, and the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Pre- The Great Game

Post- 11th Doctor

**Prologue**

**More Than Vermilion, Less Than Red: Scarlett**

"Not only don't I know who I am, but I'm very suspicious of people who do know who they are. I am sometimes ten or twelve people a day, and sometimes four or five people an hour!"

\- Tom Baker

Parents don't often tell their children that, once they start kindergarten, they'll be in school for the next 12 years. In Scarlett Bathurst's case, it was her grandparents who never told her. They forced a knapsack onto her back in the year 1959, and unbeknownst to her, she'd have the weight of school-related pressures on her shoulders until 1972. Scarlett didn't have a trouble in the world before her first day in a state-required educational environment. In fact, she didn't even know what a 'worry' felt like until she was thrown into the world of education. As far as her grandparents were concerned, they thought Scarlett would embrace the new environment, since she had never been to a public school. However, her first year of schooling didn't go as smoothly as they, or Scarlett, anticipated.

Before kindergarten, her grandparents told her stories about how many friends she'll make. They tried their very best to persuade her that school was exactly what little children needed in order to grow up correctly like there was nothing more valuable to an individual than getting an education. They made it sound absolutely appealing to a five year old. She was told stories of arts, crafts, and songs. Once the school year began, Scarlett realized that that was all they were: stories.

Little Scarlett never had much contact with other girls and boys her age before the first day had started. The thought of meeting other people didn't frighten her in the least, because she didn't even think about it until she shuffled her way through her elementary school's dauntingly large doors. Kindergarten sounded like an amusing place that she was forced to attend. Up for the challenge, the five year old didn't put up a fuss. She was nervous for reasons she didn't fully understand but this was a completely new experience for her; it was a different perceptive on what's out there in the world. One day she's 'borrowing' her grandmother's makeup to look like a grownup, and the next day she feels like she's enforced to be one. The dramatic change in environment happened so quickly that she didn't even have time to ask the question pertaining to why it was happening to her in the first place.

Her first experience on her own wasn't too bad… in the beginning. Confused, Scarlett took a random seat in the classroom on day one. The teacher encouraged her to get up and mingle. Scarlett wasn't too pleased that an adult approached her within the first ten minutes of her first day. She had absolutely no idea what to do and wanted instruction… but from anyone besides the teacher. She was already nervous about approaching other children; an adult approaching her felt even more nerve-wrenching. To make sure the teacher didn't bug her for the rest of the day, Scarlett explored the room and pretended to 'mingle'. The other kids were playing with toys or looking at picture books. She felt pretty lonely and wanted to introduce herself, but her anxiety prevented her from doing so. Her nervousness made her mind spiral to this place and that. She thought about how she would approach someone or what they'd think of her. Thoughts arose about how many people were staring at her when she first came into the classroom. As she invented her negative thoughts, she couldn't help but think about how to avoid the situation altogether. She thought about when the day was going to end and what she should be doing at that very instant instead of just standing in the middle of a classroom with shaky hands. She was unsure as to when her grandparents were going to pick her up that day or if they even would; that thought only heightened her anxiety. Scarlett wasn't used to this change; the change of worrying only caused her mind to race more than it should. Unfortunately, the child was like a newborn rabbit, unsure of what to do, in the hands of a human stranger.

Taking a deep breath, she took her teacher's advice and approached a boy in a cowboy, Maverick outfit who looked up at her. She tried introducing herself, but the Maverick boy just gave her a disgusted look and the cold shoulder to go along with it. Feeling regretful about even bothering him, she moved onto someone else now that her confidence had somewhat boosted. At least she had experienced rejection for the first time so she now knew what to expect. She later joined a little girl who was playing with a tea set; Anita was her name. Scarlett spoke what was on her mind about how nervous she was and how much longer it was going to be until she could go home. She had always been a quiet girl to begin with so it took all her effort to get out that much. It turned out that Anita was missing her father just as much as Scarlett was missing her grandparents. In fact, Anita whined about being scared more than Scarlett had. She thought it was for the best to stick with Anita, since they were both experiencing what Anita called 'homesickness'. Nonetheless, Scarlett was just happy that she found someone to talk with… even though she soon discovered that that was all Anita does: talk. She talked about the most random of things: flowers, dogs, dinner guests, cookware, etc. She talked about how her father drove her to school instead of taking the public school bus. She talked about everything and anything she could think of. All the other kids were living in their own worlds, so Scarlett decided to be content with her newly found friend. Despite her being longwinded, Scarlett was perfectly content with Anita; at least she knew someone.

That's basically what the rest of her kindergarten days consisted of after the first day… as far as Scarlett could see. It was rather boring and never quiet. She had to wake up early and leave her grandparents' house to wait at the bus stop. She had to go through an exhausting morning routine just to get on a bus to go to a boring building filled with adults and rude children in order to learn how to read worldly things, such as words, calendars, and rules. Playtime with Anita was the only slight upside to Scarlett's kindergarten days. Even her friendship wasn't as grand as she had initially hoped; it was the opposite of what she expected from the stories her grandparents told her. She enjoyed her company in a lonely world, at first. Everyone around her, including her friend, seemed like a nuisance to her now that school wasn't such a new concept to her anymore.

It was amazing how many words Anita could get out before having to take a breath. Scarlett had concluded that Anita likes to hear the sound of her own voice, but that's alright; Scarlett was more than pleased to listen. It gave her an excuse to never have to talk. She got to know her friend fairly well throughout the year just by listening and watching her every move.

The two of them would sit beside each other during playtime while fiddling with a tea set. Not focusing on what her friend was aimlessly blabbering about, Scarlett would often guess what Anita's life was like. She could daydream to herself about anything, but it's kind of difficult when all she hears is Anita's voice… which makes Scarlett unwillingly think of nothing else but her friend. The first thing Scarlett would analyze is her friend's appearance. Anita always wore bright colored dresses and some were even made out of silk. Scarlett thought that perhaps her family belongs to a high-class part of society.

_Whatever 'society' means._

Scarlett heard her grandparents say it over the dinner table one evening. In fact, Scarlett recalled her grandparents also saying 'posh' instead of 'rich'.

_That must be what Anita is: 'posh'. _

Scarlett also took notice to a pearl necklace that she wore every day.

_Most mothers, nowadays, wears pearls, but Anita's looks like the real deal. All the more reason to think she's 'posh'. If Anita is so 'posh', why is she at a public school? _

Scarlett assumed that Anita talks so much because no one listens to her at home.

_Daughters talk more to their mothers than fathers, so Anita's mother must ignore her. However, Anita wears a necklace that would most likely had been her mother's, so Anita's mother must've given it to her. She must not ignore her that much if she gives her daughter such valuable possessions. On the other hand, Anita is constantly playing with the school's tea set and talking about domestic things like being a housewife. She must not be able to do those things with her mother. _

Scarlett figured that Anita's mother could've also left her husband or is deceased. That must be why Anita talks to Scarlett so much.

_Her father might ignore her and has sent her to a public school for an easy and cheap way to get her out of his hair. Or simply, because his wife took all the money with her either to a foreign getaway or to the grave. Anita has to go to school, regardless of the financial status of her parents. Anita had an attachment to her mother. That's probably why she wears the necklace that her mother might've given her. _

However, these are just assumptions Scarlett would make while she would be blocking out Anita's boring gibberish. Adults may think that making these assumptions is a rude practice for any child to be doing, but Scarlett was convinced that they do the same when children are talking to them.

It should be no surprise that Scarlett has a habit of making up stories in her mind when she's bored… which is almost all the time. Given that the school year was inevitably drawing to a close, Scarlett didn't find new experiences scary anymore. In fact, her initial anxiety has led her to view everyday instances as dull. She chose to never experience that kind of feeling again, and the fact that fellow peers have no mercy for her has taught her that there's no point in experiencing fear anyway. She was only five years of age, so it's not like she had any reason to express such thoughts or even begin to know how to. She only just learned the alphabet. After much thought, she had concluded over the past year that feelings are much more complicated than any word could ever describe. It's only a personal dilemma to be silent and believe that it's best not share feelings. It's a personal victory to just not have feelings at all, so silence isn't a choice but a normality. Proving that she takes those thoughts seriously, she lets her imagination get the best of her as an alternative to being socially active. That's not how majority of children act, so peers tend to question her grandparents' parenting abilities while witnessing Scarlett's antisocial behavior.

Scarlett's parents passed away when she was only a year and a half due to some tragedy that her grandparents never speak of. They always told her that she was too young to know or understand. It didn't bother her that she didn't remember them, but she was still able to be raised by the family from her father's side. Scarlett's grandparents' names are Mr. Douglas and Mrs. Emma Bathurst. Young Scarlett had always heard her grandfather call her grandmother 'Emmy', so that's what she calls her around the house as well. The two of them live with Scarlett in Brooklyn, New York… Kingston Avenue at Crown Heights to be exact. It's a white paneled house with forest green shutters and a clothes-line along the side of the front yard. If the local real estate magazine were ever looking for a model home to use as their cover page, the Bathurst house would be the star. Although the other suburban homes that surrounded them were much fancier, their home doesn't stick out like a sore thumb. It was a small home that sat behind a sidewalk, just like everyone else. The Bathurst family got lucky with the home that they purchased many years ago and hasn't moved since. The home may need improvements here and there but beautiful flower beds and a happy family make it blend into the environment just perfectly. Scarlett never questioned why they live there or how it came to be. She just knew that their little, one-floor house with a small front-yard was home.

Scarlett spends time with her grandmother for the most part. Being a stout woman in her early 60's, she'd always do whatever she felt like. If she wanted to buy a pet, she would. If she wanted to go on a 10 day vacation for no reason, she would. If she wanted to move to Europe at a moment's notice, she would. However, that just wasn't her way. A devotion to her husband and granddaughter was enough to satisfy her on a daily basis. Not feeling too adventurous in her old age, she's turned into a bit of a housewife. Like their granddaughter, the Bathurst grandparents weren't social bugs. Scarlett would help her grandmother with chores, such as laundry and cooking. Mrs. Bathurst kept a flower garden along the front of the house and Scarlett would assist her whenever she felt like it. Emma Bathurst's bold personality was something that was unknown to her granddaughter, because Scarlett has never really seen her do anything other than housework. To Scarlett, her grandmother was just a sweet, skinny woman with blue eyes and straight white hair, with remains of blonde color hidden at the tips, who always took care of the house. She could always tell that her grandmother was around because the aroma of the house smelled of Emma's jasmine perfume. It always confused Scarlett as to why her grandmother would wear perfume, which her husband always buys her, around the house when all she does all day is do housework. Nevertheless, the scent of jasmine always gives Scarlet a sense of nostalgia.

Scarlett found the chores involved in taking care of the household as a bore. Everything to her was boring. That was she favorite word, because it was the only word she knew that described everything: boring. She always complained of being bored. Unfortunately, she had no other choice but to be just that. She'd try to find ways to occupy herself as any child would do, but in the meantime, she had a tendency to try and hide from her grandfather.

It's not that Mr. Bathurst was an intolerable fellow, but he had a disheartened atmosphere about him. Scarlett could tell that her grandmother desired his attention, but it was unclear to Scarlett as to why she'd leave her alone with her grandfather on rare occasions. Her grandfather would tell his granddaughter that Emmy likes to go to Prospect Park for some alone time. Not knowing what that meant, Scarlett took it as a sign that her grandmother likes to avoid him too… on occasion. Honestly, Scarlett felt that she could approach him with anything but his whole being was never there. He seemed distant and Scarlett could tell. The longest conversation she has ever had with him was when she asked him about a box that he always kept on the end-table by his lounge chair. In fact, he had boxes all over the place… including his inner coat pockets. He's even accidently leave them in his trouser pockets on laundry day. Their conversations usually involved his routine smoking sessions in the living room and discussing what those boxes were made of… for lack of a more interesting topic. He'd always tell her that they were made of nacre but she never had a clue what that was. All she could do was ask. He wouldn't ever let her touch them or look inside. In other words, he wasn't much for keeping interesting conversations. Mr. Bathurst would speak when spoken to when confronted with a question but not a word more. The only story he ever had to tell was one from his honeymoon. However, a story about a fistfight with a military bloke on a ship to America wasn't exactly thrilling to an elementary-aged child. Plus, stories from one's past is often repeated too many times to be enjoyable anymore. If Scarlett was to remain with only one memory of him, it would be of watching him smoke his pipe while reading the newspaper in a dimly lit living room.

Even when she isn't talking with him, she'd still stare at him and pinpoint random things about him that bored her… just like her friend from kindergarten. She doesn't care much for his blackish, grey sideburns and mustache. It doesn't make any sense to her why he'd keep those parts of his face so trimmed and proper and not let his hair grow out into a full beard. It only seems logical to her that he'd do that but he is just too prime and tidy. Emma could walk around the house in jeans and a t-shirt but not Douglas. He may be retired and in his early 70's, but that doesn't stop him from wearing a black suit every day. Scarlett knows that he has a more colorful suit in his bedroom closet that he calls a zoot suit, but he absolutely refuses to wear it. Scarlett just assumes it was a bad present from someone that he probably despised… or he just despises the suit itself. Regardless, her grandfather couldn't get any less exciting if he tried. That's why Scarlett was delighted about the end of her kindergarten year. Watching the red blaze of the fire in the living room fireplace made the already dark orange and brown interior of the room turn even more of a burnt orange color. The fire was the only light in the room, so that's where Scarlett would sit as she talked the lonely evenings away with her grandfather. Brown, wooden walls with a velvet red carpet gave the room a sense of dark negativity even though there was nothing menacing about it other than the overwhelming smell of smoke. Being stuck in that room with nothing but silence in the air wasn't exactly Scarlett's definition of a fun afternoon. With summer approaching for the year, she could spend more time with her grandmother in the garden and less time trying to beg her grandfather to do something fun with her. Reading her bedtime stories in his natural Irish accent is as fun as he gets. The end of school means a summer break and a summer break means outdoors.

Scarlett absolutely loves the summertime. Then again, no child in their right mind would love summer any less. She gets sick of being stuck inside the house 24/7. Scarlett has probably played with her Barbie dolls and Betsy Wetsy a million times. It wasn't that pleasurable to stare at her grandfather read the morning paper either. Even school wasn't enough of an adventure for her. It was a great feeling to know that she had no responsibilities within a certain time limit. Her grandparents knew she'd be outside for the next few months. She's been like that since as long as they can remember. The only time they ever force her inside is to eat… even if Scarlett insists on a picnic. Summer meant laying in the grass of their front-yard and staring at the clouds. It meant collecting leaves as money and selling mud pies to her grandparents. Living in a one floor home, there wasn't much of a backyard. They only had the front yard for Scarlett's summertime adventures. She'd always complain of being bored, but her actions and adventures in the front-yard during the summer proved to be quite the opposite of dull. She let her imagination take over her life all the time and wasn't as bored as she always said she was. To her grandparents, her behavior was all an act to get attention.

Scarlett's complaining has a reason behind it, however; it was most certainly not to draw attention to herself. In her mind, she had to make dull objects, which she had no interest in, seem interesting in order to not be bored. There wasn't too much she could do other than make the best of what she's got. For example, it wasn't much of a surprise to Mrs. Bathurst that Scarlett had such a green thumb; she takes after her grandmother. Aside from helping out in the flowerbed, Emma would catch her granddaughter simply staring at the grass or leaves on a tree. Without Mrs. Bathurst's knowing, Scarlett didn't truly find outdoors or wildlife to be overly fascinating, but there was always more to look at than indoors. She'd stare at the leaves and try to think things out for herself, even if she discovered more than her original thought.

_Are all the leaves the same shade of green but look different based on how the sunshine reflects on them or are they all different shades? They all turn a darker green when the sun goes down, but the starlight reflections on them then make them a different, dark shade of green... if you get rid of light altogether, they're not even green; they're black. Do they even have a color when there's no light? If I can't see it, is it really there?_

Unbeknownst to Scarlett, her alone time has developed her own understanding of things that other people know or thought about, even though she doesn't know or think that others have shared the same thoughts at one time or another in their lives. She enjoyed questioning everything around her in order to occupy her time. Scarlett would rip grass from the ground to see how deep the roots went or lay out in the sun to see how burnt she could get. She'd squeeze the life out of insects to examine their insides or tear the back off of twigs and lick the sap to know what it tastes like. To everyone around her, she seemed like a typical, soft-spoken child that had a love for the outdoors. Her grandparents were just grateful for summer days when their granddaughter looked happier than she has ever been for most of the year.

On July 19th, 1959, Scarlett's birthday, she finally discovered something that she genuinely found interesting. There was no faking it this time. This 'something' was so important to her that it left an imprint on her heart for the rest of her days; she just didn't know it at the time. Mr. Bathurst bought a new bedtime story, and knowing that Scarlett should be able to read it by herself soon, he knew she'd appreciate it. Scarlett's life turned completely upside down the day her grandfather bought her a child's book entitled, "Basil of Baker Street" by Eve Titus.


	2. Episode 1

**Episode 1:**

**Beginnings with Basil**

"Basil, for the love of all that is good, could you please stop scraping at that violin?" Scarlett bellowed in disgust as she tried finishing her bedtime story.

"Well, Scarlett…" Basil persisted, "I'm not going to get any better if I don't practice."

Laying belly-up on her bed, an eight year old Scarlett impatiently rolled her eyes as she sat up and turned off her nightlight on the nightstand beside her bed. Basil let of a loud 'huff' as he now stared in pitch blackness at his music-stand. Standing on the windowsill, the little mouse started to pull the string to open up the blinds in order to let the moonlight in. Scarlett quickly pulled a pillow over her face to block out the light.

"It's late, and I'm tired. You're never going to learn how to play that darn thing! It has been two years and you still can't play a single note. Go to sleep, would you? I start 3rd grade tomorrow and would like to not have dark circles under my eyes," she muffled.

Scarlett placed the pillow beside her head when she realized that the room was dark again. She heard the scratching of little rodent paws on her wooden floor and knew that Basil had given in and went to bed.

"Thank you," Scarlett whispered as the sound of the footsteps grew distant.

The Eve Titus book was read to her every night… over and over again until she memorized it. Over the last few years, she finally learned how to read it without difficulty. It was a children's book but she didn't care. She must've read it seventy three times. Children aren't that dedicated to a children's book, at least, Scarlett didn't think so. She didn't mind that she still read it at eight years old. If she's that passionate about it then she didn't want to consider herself a child anymore. If adults are allowed to be that dedicated and passionate about a book then an adult she will be. She was prepared to be proud of her interests while finally entering the mysterious and wonderful world of reading.

Scarlett's grandmother had breakfast set out for her granddaughter and her husband early the next morning. She left a note on a cereal box that she ran out to the store for some eggs. Of course, Scarlett could only shake her head when she read notes like that in the morning. Typical Mrs. Bathurst… always making sure she pleases her husband. No wonder they always run out of eggs; he eats them like there's no tomorrow.

Scarlett knew her grandfather wouldn't be out of bed for another hour, so that gave her grandmother enough time to buy and fix him an omelet before he wakes up for breakfast. Scarlett sat down at the table and poured herself whatever Kellogg's was in front of her. In a silent kitchen that homed no one else but herself, she heard a loud 'thud' from behind her; the startle from the noise had made her jump. She turned around in her chair to see a brown mouse in a robe on the kitchen floor that was standing in front of the refrigerator. He jumped off the floor for a second time with all of his might, in hopes that he'd propel high enough to reach the refrigerator handle. When he failed once again, he slowly turned around to find Scarlett giving him a confused look.

"Good morning, my dear! How are you on this beautiful day? Looking rather sharp if I do say so myself; you'll be the brightest of your grade today. You're not nervous for the first day at all; I can tell!" Basil cheerfully spoke at an ungodly speed. "You must be at such ease that you won't mind a favor placed upon you, yes? Now, if you don't mind, Ms. Bathurst, may I have use of your chair?"

Scarlett gave him a suspicious look as she rose from the chair and headed towards the refrigerator door.

"What is it you want for breakfast?" Scarlett politely asked as she opened the door.

"'Tis not for me, dear, it's for Dawson. The plump fellow has a bit of an appetite this morning… and a craving at that…" Basil rambled as he jumped from shock as Scarlett quickly slammed the refrigerator door before he finished his answer.

"Oh no," she interrupted as she headed back to her seat, "Dr. Dawson is on a diet. He does not need any more cheese this week. Besides, my grandfather is having an omelet this morning; I'm sure of it."

"My colleague is not picky when it comes to cheeses! Give me what kind your grandfather does not use. I'm sure he won't miss them," Basil begged as he scampered his way up towards the tabletop.

Scarlett gave Basil the evil eye and he squeaked with dismay. He made his way off the table and scurried out of the kitchen. Moments after he left, Scarlett's grandmother came back from the store. Scarlett finished her morning routine and headed to school; it's been the same routine… every day of every year.

Scarlett's journey through elementary school seemed just as dull as kindergarten had been. She proved that she had the smarts for school but not the devotion. She was simply uninterested. Her grandparents worried about her quite a bit. Teachers would report to them about how quiet and isolated Scarlett is among her peers in a classroom. The only person she talks to is Anita, but even then Scarlett doesn't talk nearly as much in comparison as her friend. Not only was she an isolated child but she also appeared to have an anger issue. Every other week she'd come home with a bruised lip and note from the teacher. The ignorant and seeming dull remarks from peers seemed to always set her off. However, anyone could argue that it's just kids being kids. Little Bathurst, on the other hand, found her peers rather unintelligent and simply did not approve of their company while she does required activities. If another child merely wanted to help her cut out snowflakes, they'd get threatened with the 'child-proof' scissors. Parent-teacher meetings were quite frequent for the Bathurst grandparents, but the meetings did not seem to matter to their granddaughter one bit since she had no idea what they talk about in private anyways. Scarlett simply lived for the end of the school day. This wasn't unnatural for children; most children didn't want to be in school either. Little Scarlett, on the other hand, had an interest that no one else probably had. She didn't go home to play with toys or daydream about becoming a nurse or firefighter. She lived for the days when she could go home and pretend to be a female detective; a detective like Basil. Her grandparents knew that it's healthy for children to have an overactive imagination, but their granddaughter's obsession was affecting her mood. She didn't pay attention to anyone or seem interested in anything else. In fact, she had always been quite isolated. Unfortunately, Scarlett's tendency to play detective was all in her mind. It wasn't childish play, such as walking around with a magnifying glass or anything. She'd make deductions in her head and overanalyze everything. Her grandparents weren't even quite sure what was affecting her mood. They didn't know that she was playing detective since they couldn't physically see it. All they could see was their antisocial granddaughter developing a more complex field of concentration of everyday objects. Scarlett could stare at the bricks of the fireplace for hours and not break concentration. Staring off into space at the dinner table was a daily thing as her mind wandered into the bottomless crevices of her brain. These changes became more and more noticeable over the years but her grandparents never knew the cause. By not knowing what had an influence over their granddaughter, they couldn't take the influence away. In this case, it's a child's storybook about a mouse. Not even her grandparents could ever have guessed that.

At an early age, she has learned to look down at everybody. Everyone seemed thoughtless to her; they don't care about her interests or try to understand them in any way. Adults put on a performance every day so Scarlett saw it acceptable to do the same. For that reason, she kept to herself. By doing so, she formed a bit of antisocial manner and dislike of people. She liked her interest and that's that. She had an obsession with her dream of becoming a female detective. She had a fascination with breaking down the world to reveal what it really is. Realistically, her imagination of being a detective was just her own cover-up for her childlike desire to understand the concepts of life and the world around her; it's more interesting to pretend to be a detective than just a maturing child.

Scarlett could see that her grandparents thought her obsession was unhealthy which made Scarlett develop a dislike for her grandparents. They were right, though. Scarlett's overwhelming interest in being a detective only made Scarlett more isolated and judgmental of everyone around her. She had formed a temper as a young girl even outside of the classroom. She was always disgusted by small talk when people simply wanted to get something out of her like a 'hello' or 'goodbye'. Her attitude didn't change for years. It doesn't help the situation when all she wants to do is lock herself in her bedroom for hours on end which she had been doing that for years after kindergarten ended. She used to love the outdoors… now that doesn't seem to be the case anymore.

It had always seemed rather suspicious when a twelve year old doesn't even want to make eye contact with her own family. Her grandparents' only choice was to hope it was a phase and wait for it to pass. The principle of her elementary had recommended professional help for their granddaughter in the past. However, Mr. Bathurst wouldn't hear a word of it; in his mind, he didn't see the point in wasting money on a child for adult problems and issues. If a child isn't even fully grown yet, a parent has got to just let them discover themselves. As Douglas Bathurst would complain behind closed doors to Mrs. Bathurst:

"What do they think she is? A psychopath? She doesn't even know how to baste a turkey for Christ's sake."

Scarlett seemed more like a teenager than a preteen. However forlorn she seemed in her appearance, she was really the opposite mentally. Scarlett was the happiest girl in the world by pretending to deduce every aspect of the world and the people that reside in it. Her passion made her appear like the most spiteful, miserable preteen that ever roamed the earth, but she was really just caught up in her own fantasy world as most children are. She could live with that reputation; people would leave her alone if she repelled them enough. She was content with being her own friend.

Scarlett sat alone in her front-yard during the same summer that her grandparents took the lock off her bedroom door. She didn't see how that was justified. It's 1966; it's not like she would do anything wrong. She sprawled out on the grass and closed her eyes, hoping her grandparents were minding their own business inside and not spying on her. She hated being watched, especially when she couldn't see; daydreaming and sleeping outside didn't require her attention to be on her grandparents. On this particular day, Scarlett had her eyes closed for about 5 minutes before she felt something like a bug crawl up her chest. Instinct took over and she swatted at whatever it may have been.

"Holy Mother of Mary, what did you slap me for?" Basil bawled as he clung his tiny claws into her shirt to hang on.

Scarlett only lifted her head up enough to notice who was on her chest.

"Maybe you should warn me next time you decide to go mountain climbing on my body," Scarlett irritably sighed.

She closed her eyes again for a few seconds and reopened them to find Basil leaning on her nose with his arms crossed.

"Listen here, Ms. Bathurst. We've got a case to solve and you're just lying there. Dawson awaits our company in the flower bed. A distressed dove came to our flat this morning claiming that her brother had disappeared late last night while scavenging through your flower bed. His sister claims that he's got into some trouble with Brooklyn blue-jays so God only knows of his condition. I've got the New York pigeons' network looking out for any suspicious activities. I need you to help us identify the types of flowers your grandmother has planted," Basil sternly explained as he jumped down from her face and started pulling her hair to get her moving. "Come on, let's get a move on. The game is afoot!"

Scarlett's irritated mood vanished as she giggled at Basil's sincerity. She followed the mouse and crawled over to the flower bed. Scarlett's grandmother came to the window and saw her granddaughter rubbing the texture of her flowers through her fingertips. Emma Bathurst smiled at her granddaughter's seemingly normal activities.

Scarlett had her pintsized friend at her side at all times. Needless to say, it was more than just having a pet around. For years, her and Basil occupied their time with numerous cases that were trivial to Scarlett but of the greatest importance to her furry companion. Schoolwork and responsibilities at home were the only things that Scarlett had to look forward to since she wasn't much for socializing. Daydreaming and trying to have fun were what made her life worthwhile for the time being, even though she didn't exactly know what to look forward to after school. Worrying wasn't an action that she encouraged, especially when she doesn't even know what there is to worry about. Grownup responsibilities, money, marriage, etc. were all aspects of life that her grandparents spoke of as things she had to look forward to in the future. If she doesn't even understand how the system of life works then what is there to worry about? If she doesn't worry, then she doesn't care. The only thing that mattered to her was the 'here-and-now'… and that consisted of Basil and his bizarre cases. They shared everyday together and only grew closer as friends over the years. Basil didn't just solve crimes with her; he was a constant companion. He was always found on her shoulder every morning at the breakfast table. He waved her off to school during that specific time of the year. He greeted her every morning and every night. So that her grandparents don't freak out, Scarlett had warned Basil from day one to hide whenever they entered the room. Fresh out of kindergarten, she knew that her grandparents would never allow her to own a pet mouse. At the kitchen table, he'd been known to scamper into her hair at a moment's notice. She'd tell him that the coast was clear whenever her grandmother would send her to the bathroom to comb her hair. It was constantly messy from how much Basil had to hide in it. Basil was constantly there and Scarlett never questioned why. However, she did not bother her grandparents with stories of her free time; there's no point. The two of them just knew she was enjoying herself by being alone and doing whatever she wants. They did not question her for they knew she was just a child with an overactive imagination and not a care in the world… just like it should be… for the time being.

Halloween had arrived in the year of 1968. If Scarlett were to be asked what her favorite holiday was, it would be Halloween. Free candy and frightful adrenaline were the only oddball occurrences for a child to look forward to towards the end of a routine year. Instead of surprising herself with picking a random costume, she knew exactly what she wanted to dress up as. To her grandparents' dismay, Scarlett saved enough allowance to buy a deerstalker hat. She wanted to go trick-or-treating as Basil so she even borrowed her grandfather's corncob pipe. There was no way she could afford to buy a calabash pipe so a corncob would have to do. Dressed and ready to go, a fourteen year old Scarlett Bathurst headed down the street a ways to find Anita dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. Her friend jokingly rolled her eyes when she saw Scarlett skip up the street in the detective costume. Anita complained of her inability to obtain a Cinderella costume and how her father's bed sheets were the best she had to work with. She's a spoiled little girl but not that spoiled. Her father promised a nice dress for prom but not for a single Halloween night. After a short talk, Scarlett locked her arm around Anita's as she led her up the street to make her feel like royalty. Scarlett's no 'Prince Charming' but she knew how to make her friend feel better under any circumstance.

The two friends, arm-in-arm, made it as far as Union Street when they stopped at their first house. They were a bit unsure if people were 'trick-or-treating' since the street seemed so vacant on that particular night. The sun wasn't completely down yet, but it was the perfect time for children to go door-to-door without adult supervision… at least, that's what parents thought in New York. The first building didn't look any different from the other homes on the street but its porch lights shone a dark, red color. The luminance gave off a malevolent feel which only gave Scarlett a sense of assurance that the owners were Halloween lovers and candy was right behind the front door. Being somewhat nervous, Anita stood on the sidewalk as Scarlett jumped up the steps to the door. She gave a strong knock on the door-knocker and waited; she looked back at Anita with a look of excitement as she awaited her sugary prize. Rocking back and forth while waiting for an answer, Scarlett knocked again. This time, the door flung open so fast that it startled her. It was pitch black inside the house, so all her attention was focused on the thirty-something year old man standing in front of her. He had a brown suit on and stood in an awkward fashion. A man and woman stood right behind him in the shadows. She could only see their skin and hair, but it didn't bother her that she didn't see them much. The two people in the background stared down at little Scarlett while she focused solely on the man that was in front of her. He had a look of surprise that resembled the one that was on Scarlett's face. His hands didn't touch one another as he twiddled his fingers in an anxious manner; he was obviously at a loss for words.

"Oh, I'm sorry; really, I am. I'm afraid I don't have any candy. It's a shame; Halloween without any candy," he frantically spoke as Scarlett tried to keep up with what he was saying. "I quite like candy, well, who doesn't?" He rhetorically asked as he gave a smile and clapped his hands together a single time. "Um, I'm rather busy at the moment," he rambled as he quickly glanced back at the two people behind him and then turned back to face Scarlett again. "I'm afraid we'll have to chat another time."

His anxiety became more present as he twirled around to go back into the house. At the last second before shutting the door, he spun around on his heels and said:

"Nice Sherlock Holmes get-up, by the way."

The door slammed in front of her face as she stood in confusion. His conversation to her lasted a total of 20 seconds; it was the fastest, most unusual introduction she'd ever been through. He was quite odd but what was weirder than him was his last comment. She drifted down the steps in a puzzled state of mind and walked with Anita to the next house. Scarlett had no idea what he was talking about… and, more importantly, she didn't understand how anyone could not have any candy on Halloween night.

As they went from door to door, the residents would find her Sherlock Holmes costume adorable. However, Scarlett has never heard of him before. She asked her grandfather who he was that night when she returned his pipe. For the first time in a long while, Scarlett made him laugh. He couldn't believe she's never heard of Sherlock Holmes; especially when she's so obsessed with "Basil of Baker Street". He explained to her that her children's book was based off of the novels and short stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. That night, her grandfather had thought he made a horrible mistake by telling her that. Her obsession may only become worse, and it'd make her personality more repelling than it already was. He was right; her fascination on the topic has now been broadened and grown but it did wonders for her personality… at least… from what her grandparents could see. He was wrong in that respect; she began to grown out of her phase and became a more tolerable person. They knew she'd grow out of it sooner or later.

"Why on earth didn't you tell me?" Scarlett shouted excitedly on that late Halloween night.

"You never bothered to ask!" Basil chuckled. "I live in the basement underneath 221B of Baker Street. I take notes in shortpaw when I listen to him describe his solved cases to his colleague. Who did you think I learned all my deduction skills from?"

Scarlett kept bothering him with questions about Mr. Sherlock Holmes as she fidgeted while laying on her bed with her legs crossed. Basil stood on her windowsill, looking up at the moon. He had his violin and music stand at the ready. He never got the chance to play with all her talking; he wasn't used to her chatty behavior.

"Basil!" Scarlett groaned, unhappy that he wasn't answering any of her questions.

She felt that he was ignoring her. Basil slowly put the violin and its bow to his side, and he gave a bittersweet sigh. He grinned up at the night sky.

"I think you're quite right. Maybe I'll take up the flute or some instrument such as that. Goodnight, Ms. Bathurst."

Basil kept the blind open as he crawled down from the windowsill. Frustrated, Scarlett plopped onto her side and pulled the bed covers over her head. He disappeared through the cracked bedroom door and into the lightened hallway. Scarlett never saw him again after that night.

Her mind had been blown away that Halloween of 1968. She'd get her hands on cash for the sole purpose of invading book stores. She'd go to her friend's house to watch 1940's movie versions of "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" and found old posters for theatrical plays. She even discovered that a musical called "Baker Street", based on the books, was released three years ago. She eventually owned the 4 novels and 56 short stories. She reread them numerous times until she understood every word of what she read. Every deduction had to be understood. She even looked at the movies in depth and became her own critic even though she didn't even own a television. The movies connected with the books and all of those connected with her Eve Titus book. That book even had another sequel come out in 1964 which she had never known about before. When Scarlett realized that the Sherlock Holmes in the movies was played by an actor named Basil Rathbone, she got the connection immediately. That little childhood book linked to something so much bigger. It became the story of her life: realizing that fact. Nothing should be overlooked, no matter how small. It may be associated with something of a much greater scale and importance.

She never related with anyone else like she did with that fictional character. She realized that she could never do the same with any real human being, so over the years, she turned out to be a less anger-filled individual. She learned and adapted to being nice and sympathetic to people. However, it wasn't because she was coming out of her shell or learning to like people. It was quite the opposite. She wasn't quite old enough to understand how to communicate or get along with other people when she was a child. That's why she always seemed so spiteful. Over the years, she has become a rather excellent actor. She will always be the same negative, unkind person on the inside, but now, in her older years, she can put on a happy and charming face… regardless of how she felt. The way she saw it, people couldn't help it. Stupidity isn't something that can be fixed, so it's a waste of energy to have anger towards them. Instead, she'll have sympathy. It's not her fault that she believes no one will ever understand the way she sees the world. They just don't and she knows it. In other words, Scarlett still looked at people as lesser than her. She just didn't treat them that way anymore. She thought about people possibly thinking the same way she did… It might be true but she didn't want to believe it. Her grandparents were wrong in that respect; she didn't grow out of her snobby, childish years. Those years were still a part of her; she just learned how to cover their appearance up. In Scarlett's opinion, she will never grow out of any phase. No matter what she has learned or experienced throughout any period of her life, she will always feel like the same person. There is no such thing as phases. And although her grandparents try to ignore the fact, there is no denying that Scarlett's opinion is correct. Although Scarlett has become a more charming and outgoing individual, she still has moments where she doesn't mask up her true thoughts and personality. She is known for having fits of rage whenever she isn't happy about something. Scarlett Bathurst can be the sweetest person one second but become the nastiest the next. However, no matter how upset she is with others, she will always have one true companion. The character of Sherlock Holmes was the closest she ever felt to having an intellectual equal. It's a shame that he's a fictional man.


	3. Episode 2

**Episode 2:**

**A Sherlock Home**

Scarlett groaned in her bed as the sunshine shone through her bedroom window on a Saturday morning during the spring of 1970. The sleepers in her eyes made her vision blurry but she could see the outline of someone sitting on the radiator that sat underneath the window. Not surprised, she rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn.

"You haven't eaten or slept in three days. How are you not exhausted?" Scarlett yawned.

As her vision cleared, she could see a man whose face resembled that of John Barrymore.

"I won't respite until I've established a logical conclusion from all the facts of this current case," Sherlock Holmes smirked. "With your lethargic behavior, I should prove to be a symbol of inspiration."

Scarlett stumbled out of bed and went into the bathroom to get around for the day. She wasn't surprised by his presence anymore. She was startled by his appearance on New Year's Day of 1969. Honestly, she had expected to see Basil again, but he never seemed to visit her anymore. His disappearance didn't bother her too much, since she had her newly found Holmes obsession to occupy her time. However, she did miss the comfort of his friendship and made the wish of his return when the holidays made their rounds for the year. Luckily for her, the wish she made had turned out better than she originally desired. Scarlett Bathurst was now entering her teenage years, and the company of a childhood mouse wasn't going to fully satisfy her desires for friendship and companionship any longer.

Scarlett came out of the bathroom, all prepared for the day, only to find a William Gillette-faced Sherlock Holmes asleep on her bed. She smiled and dived into the bed, startling him out of a deep sleep. She playfully jumped on the bed as she rang out in excitement:

"Let's go! Let's go! It's Saturday, and I'm absolutely, positively bored! I thought we had a case to solve. You can't go to sleep now. Don't you dare tell me that you chased down the Aurora without me…?"

Annoyed, Mr. Holmes stayed in his stiff sleeping position and glared up at her.

"I informed you a few moments ago that I had to establish a conclusion and I did just that. All that was required of me was a little brain power. The case was drawing to an inevitable close; it was only a matter of time. Trivial matters, such as sleep, are only insignificant until they are of low supply. Indeed, I ventured out with Watson last night and got my interview with Jonathan Small, my one-legged friend. I am of no use to my future clients if I am drained of body and mind," Sherlock yawned as he closed his eyes.

Scarlett groaned at his defiance as she slid off the bed. Knowing that she now had nothing better to do, she picked up her copy of The Sign of Four and continued where she left off from last night. She'd been re-reading it the past three days and curled up in a corner of her room; she gave in to Mr. Holmes' hibernation from his work. With a cantankerous look on her face, she mumbled under her breath.

"You talk funny."

Mr. Holmes opened one eye to glare at her.

"If you find it so humorous then perhaps you should educate yourself. Keep reading; bother me when you have an actual dilemma," he yawned.

Scarlett's teenage years went slow and had its ups and downs. There were moments of excitement and moments of resentment. Scarlett Bathurst has always had noticeable mood swings that seemed to affect her overall attitude towards everyday struggles and joys. Unlike what everyone had predicted, it was not a childhood-only issue. Her main problem was that she viewed everything as a waste of time and energy. Her grandparents took her boredom as a sign of depression, since she still has the same negative attitude that she's had as a child. Scarlett didn't consider herself depressed, since she knew that she'd never be amused with life. To please herself, all Scarlett could do at her age was read, write, study, and visit Anita. She couldn't drive and her grandparents didn't own a television. Most everyday pleasures didn't seem that important to her in the overall scheme of her life anyway. She preferred the company of her imagination to pass the time instead of making friends and running off to go do shenanigans elsewhere. While being extremely introverted, her only hope for enjoyment was being locked away in her bedroom for the entire day.

Scarlett's entire physical appearance seemed to change throughout her high school days. Rapid mood swings eventually became the least of her grandparents' worries. She has always had seemingly dramatic mood swings but now she started to act abnormally. Lack of sleep during the week became routine, but it appeared to be a problem once she started sleeping through entire weekends. Teenagers typically stay up late during school nights but at least they sleep for a couple of hours. Scarlett didn't seem like she had slept a wink. Her grandparents, especially her grandfather, had hoped that her spry behavior after school was caused by a consumption of caffeine and nothing else. They assumed that she had found a way to stay awake during the week; although they found no evidence of any. They only suspected the worse but didn't want to believe the alternative enough to investigate the probability. It didn't make sense to be so energetic on zero hours of sleep but have no energy on 48 hours sleep instead.

As the months and years went on, her facial features became more pronounced and her anorexic figure stood out more. She looked as though she had aged a decade within a matter of a couple years. The Bathurst grandparents chose not to interfere or question her lifestyle because she would only get upset. Her fits of rage were so colossal at this point that it almost didn't ever seem worth it to get her upset. That's how her grandparents see it anyway. So naturally, Scarlett frowned upon her grandparents' inability to accept her everyday life choices. To her, it seemed as if anything she did was wrong... based on everyone's concern for her. She didn't see what the concern was for; she was perfectly content with herself, even if her choices for contentment may be questioned by everyone and anyone. All that the grandparents could do was call the school and find out what the problem might be. Restroom bitch-fights and black eyes were just as routine as elementary school had been but not near as reported. As the master of persuasion, Scarlett could change she attitude in a heartbeat in order to fit the situation. If a young boy were to report that Scarlett had bashed a carton of milk into his head in an uncontrolled fit of rage, she'd be balling her eyes out in the principal's office in order to trick him into believing that it was an accident. However, as a student, she was an absolute delight with a smile glued to her face and never said an unkind word. She'd perform in musicals or win the latest calculus competition in the best of spirits but all it would take is one uncovered sneeze in her general direction and she would crack. Despite her unpredictable rage, peers still found her somewhat seductive in nature and still sung the praises of her. The Bathurst family never traced a problem that led back to Scarlett's behavior such as bullying or drugs. If anything, she appeared to be the negative influence… not anything around her. Scarlett Bathurst does what she wants whenever she wants. Her desire of materialism is small and has learned to not rely on wealth to gain happiness… opposite of a typical teenager's way of thinking. Her daily actions, along with reading, studying, and writing, gave her more joy than her family could ever understand. Putting on a performance in order to get through high school life was the only way she knew how to survive it. Her grandparents knew that neither school nor themselves could've been her inspiration for such a bohemian lifestyle and wondered where she could've observed it from.

"Sherlock, could I ask you a question?" Scarlett whimpered with her head held between her knees.

She'd eaten her grandmother's new recipe for beef potpie one summer evening in 1970, and it didn't agree with her very well. That night, she stayed locked up in her bedroom and sat on the floor. She wanted to stay as close to the door as possible in case she had to make a run for the bathroom. Sherlock Holmes, with the face of Basil Rathbone, stood at his favorite window and ceased smoking his calabash pipe.

"Certainly," he said as he turned around to face her.

"Anita is dating a senior," Scarlett whispered without making eye contact with Mr. Holmes. "And there's a friend of his that, quite obviously, has his eyes on me. Explain to me again why you think pursuing him is unwise?"

Mr. Holmes kept an emotionless face as he slugged his way over to the bed and sat on the corner.

"You've never questioned my judgment before," Sherlock coldly stated.

He paused for a moment until the corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile.

"I suppose…," he started up again as the tone of his voice became a little less serious. "Your distrust in me was bound to happen. You're a woman; nature's feminine instincts take over the logical verdicts of all women in due time."

Scarlett's head shot up with a look of anger on her face.

"My judgment is perfectly clear!"

Mr. Holmes let out a bellowing laugh.

"It is for that reason alone that lies the problem! Women cannot be trusted… not even the best of them," he grinned while studying her reaction. "Deceitfulness is a performance that everyone can play beautifully. You cannot trust the human race… although bias can make some lies favorable over others," he stated as he lifted himself off the bed and started pacing.

"Love is bias; a chemical reaction that not only affects the brain but also the body. A handsome face reflects a handsome heart… but the heart is not the powerhouse of judgment; the mind is!" Sherlock shouted as he aggressively paced in front of the window.

Scarlett let her head tilt towards the floor again.

"But the heart allows the brain to function," she whimpered in defiance.

With a stern look on his face, Mr. Holmes faced her while puffing on his pipe.

"I never question my own ability to determine rulings but I do yours. You find me handsome, do you not?" he asked.

Still not making eye contact, Scarlett blushed. She started to look up as she saw his feet pivot his body so that he didn't face her anymore. She could see Mr. Holmes' smoke rise as he puffed on his pipe while staring out the window. After a couple seconds, he quickly swiveled his entire body around to face her again. His face changed to a resemblance of an elderly Robert Rendel.

"Ms. Bathurst, it is of the first importance not to allow your judgment to be biased by personal qualities. You're letting your bodily chemicals get the best of you. You must learn to change that. Here," Sherlock pulled out a small, paper bag out of his robe pocket and bent down to hand it to her.

"This'll stimulate the mind and put it to better use. Focus on what is important, not on what is inconsequential."

Scarlett groaned at the sight of the bag, knowing that the contents inside would only make her feel sicker than she already was. She snatched the bag out of his hand because she did not like his attitude and manner of shrugging off her problems. He stood up and walked back towards his favorite window.

"Maybe if you'd stop staring at that photograph of Irene Adler… oh wait, I meant to say 'Mrs. Norton'," she snarled under her breath but loud enough to be audible.

Mr. Holmes was bothered by her sly comment and knew what she was implying.

"Indeed, she is a married woman, but that is of no nuisance to me for she means nothing more to me than an attractive face. Not like I would give into such temptations, married or not. I'm disappointed in my inability to do my duty to the King of Bohemia when he called upon my services. It is nothing more than mere fascination of a woman's wit," he defended.

Scarlett, staring and fiddling with the bag, got annoyed.

"Well, you sure are saying 'nothing more' quite a bit. For the first time since I've met you, you're starting to sound like a hypocrite."

Mr. Holmes took one last puff from his pipe and dumped the ashes outside of the window that he just opened. To Scarlett's surprise, Mr. Holmes sat on the windowsill and started to crawl underneath the glass and proceed out the window. Once he was outside, he turned around to look at Scarlett through the window. He slowly shut the window and left without saying his routine goodnight wish.

Twelve years of schooling had come and gone, but Anita and Scarlett were still dear friends. Anita still wore bright colored dresses to go with her golden, long blonde hair and blue eyes. She still wore expensive jewelry and kept up with the top-style fashions. Pink lipstick was a signature of hers. Through the years, Scarlett has mirrored Anita's sense of style. Scarlett has black, shiny hair but she doesn't like it long. It's cut in a pixie style. Scarlett goes for an elegant, professional look. She dresses less feminine than her grandfather would like her to. Scarlett also mirrored Anita's signature by always wearing bright, red lipstick. Scarlett's favorite color was red, so she was known around the neighborhood for styling red lips and nails. Anita stayed at her father's house as a form of a housekeeper. While her father worked as a plumber, Anita kept the house in order. Scarlett's one theory turned out to be correct all those years ago after all. Anita's mother left her husband when Anita was three years old to go marry another man. After the divorce, she kept all her money from her profession as a manager of some big company. It's rather thought provoking, to Scarlett, as to how she got that position in the 1950's… being a woman and all. It was unlikely but not impossible. Nonetheless, Scarlett gives Anita credit for keeping her attached to reality and helping her realize that some everyday pleasures are, in fact, important.

However, Scarlett gives Sherlock Holmes the credit for making her who she is to this day. She gives Anita the credit of being her John Watson, in a sense. If she didn't have her as a friend and social mate then she would be lost in her fantasy world for the rest of her life. Anita keeps her grounded. Scarlett is now a skeptical woman who knows that life will only get more boring as time goes on. It'll go fast too, if she lets it. Anita made time seemingly go faster; she was very set in stone. She'd always talk of romance and having a future with a family. Scarlett couldn't relate with Anita's humanistic dreams. She never even thought about love since it wasn't a necessity for her. Scarlett's favorite and most loved man in her life will make life worthwhile if she lives by his words of wisdom and skills of deduction. No one, not even Anita, knows of her thoughts and dreams. Scarlett didn't expect anything too extraordinary unless she made it happen. She didn't have the heart to share thoughts with a friend who has unrealistic and unachievable dreams of fairytales. The only problem Scarlett ever had was that she didn't know what amazing thing she could possibly do; especially in the meantime while she is working to make enough money to actually do stuff. That'll be enough time to think of something. Maybe she'll go on a trip to Europe and have an epiphany or some bullshit like that. She was too realistic; it kind of bummed her out sometimes. It's a waste of time to dream if there's no possibility of the dream ever happening. She was at a loss as to what to do with herself since there are limitations now that schooling came and went. Not having any goals to achieve, she now has all the time in the world.

"Why not?" Scarlett screamed at her grandmother in the kitchen one summer morning.

Emma Bathurst was leaning against the kitchen sink while facing her upset granddaughter. Mrs. Bathurst knew better than to say anything while her granddaughter had a sudden temper. A few moments ago on that same morning, Scarlett was sitting at the table while eating her routine breakfast and had been engaging in a simple conversation with her grandmother. Douglas Bathurst was still asleep in the living room. Scarlett asked a simple question before one of her mood swings hit.

"I just graduated a week ago! Why can't I be handed the respect I deserve? According to your standards, I'm almost an adult. I've waited my whole life for the time when adults will treat me like one of them. And this is what I get? I make a simple request to come with you to Prospect Park and you deny me? What the hell, Emmy?"

Mrs. Bathurst turned around and proceeded to wash the dishes in front of her. She could hear the screech of the metal chair as Scarlett got up to approach her. Her grandmother cringed at the sound, because she anticipated what would happen next. Emma turned her head up and to the side just to find a fury-red faced Scarlett towering over her. She didn't know what to say to her granddaughter and looked back down at the dirty dishes.

"I'm waiting for an answer," Scarlett coldly stated.

Typically, Scarlett just walks away from the situation when she gets upset. The Bathurst grandparents try not to say anything until she does. However, if they argue back and give an answer that their granddaughter doesn't like, Scarlett gets cruel.

"An answer."

Emma still didn't make any eye contact but stopped washing the plate in her hand. She held it as she just stared down at the soap suds that still resided on its surface. She was in deep thought as she tried to think of something to say to Scarlett. Emma didn't want to offend her granddaughter, but Prospect Park had intimate and sentimental value that belonged to Emma and Douglas alone. She didn't quite feel comfortable taking Scarlett with her as she strolls down memory lane of when she and her husband first came to America. Emma tried to think of something to say that doesn't sound selfish.

"I… I like my alone time," Emma mumbled.

Scarlett grabbed the glass plate from her grandmother's wet hands and threw the dish onto the floor with as much force as she could muster up. It collided with the hard floor with a loud clash and glass fragments were scattered throughout the whole kitchen. Douglas Bathurst was startled out of his sleep when he heard the shatter. He came out of the living room and into the kitchen to see what had happened. Before he entered, Scarlett had already left. As he made it into the room, he could see the violent swinging of the backdoor and his wife still staring at the soapy water. She hadn't moved a muscle. Mr. Bathurst tiptoed around what was left of the broken plate and put his arm around his wife. Emma was not shaken up like she used to be when Scarlett took control like that. Although the fury of their granddaughter is a routine thing in the Bathurst household, Douglas and Emma are still at a loss as to how to handle it. Self-pity consumed them daily as they wondered where they went wrong. However, their concern about how to take care of her was not for their own emotions' sake but for their granddaughter's.

Meanwhile, Scarlett sped-walked down a vacant Union Street as she got more and more angry. The Robert Rendal-faced Sherlock Holmes fought to catch up with her. From behind her, he stretched out his arm to grab her shoulder.

"Stop," he demanded.

Scarlett spun around as soon as she felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder. He didn't even have enough time to grip her hard enough to turn her around himself. She hyperventilated as she awaited his predictable conversation.

"You've done this with me a million times. You know the steps. You know how to do it. The day may come that I will not be around to assist you and walk you through it. Now, take a deep breath."

Scarlett did as Mr. Holmes said and tried to calm down.

"Make sure that your shoulders are down. Yes, that's it. Relax them. Now, another deep breath."

After a couple minutes of listening to the commands of her friend, Scarlett's blushed faced began to fade and cool down.

"Better?" he asked with a smile.

"Better."

"Excellent. Now let's go home," Mr. Holmes said as he put his shoulder around her and pulled her in close.

Mr. Holmes led Scarlett back home as they walked down the street of her childhood that first introduced her to the name of Sherlock Holmes.

"I still don't understand," Scarlett complained as she rubbed her eyes.

She had the short story, The Final Problem, opened on her lap while sitting at the kitchen table. An Italian priest with the face of Christopher Lee spun around to face Scarlett. He had been pacing in front of the backdoor with a bag of ice on his bruised knuckles.

"The book explains the whole situation; I don't see what's so difficult for you to comprehend," he grumbled.

"I understand this part," she confirmed as she flipped through most of the book's pages. "It's this part that I don't quite get."

She pointed to a couple sentences as she looked up at the priest to make sure that he was looking at what she was pointing at. Mr. Holmes threw off his disguise as he walked closer to Scarlett in order to get a closer look. He leaned over her right shoulder and squinted his eyes.

"What are you implying by questioning my motives, Ms. Bathurst?" Sherlock asked as he cocked his head.

Scarlett gawked at his know-it-all attitude.

"You knew there was no sick Englishwoman. You knew the note was a hoax. Why wouldn't you tell Watson? I mean, I understand why you faked your own death, but I don't know why you didn't inform John about it. You invited him along to Switzerland but for what purpose? Moriarty's surviving henchmen and your brother, Mycroft, knew you were alive. While you were lollygagging around Persia and France, Dr. Watson's life had taken a turn for the worse. I question your motives because you didn't seem to have any," Scarlett interrogated as she slammed the book shut.

Mr. Holmes straightened his back since he was quite insulted.

"Duty called me around the world, not just London. I was taking care of matters that were of the highest importance; it was certainly not a waste of time," he proclaimed. "I did not acknowledge or realize the possible severity my loss would have on Watson. In the possibility that I were to never return to England, I had confidence that my friend would make sure I went out in a blaze of glory to the public's eye. The defeat of 'The Napoleon of Crime' is a victory that'll be held in highest regard," Sherlock half-smiled.

Scarlett smiled back at him, knowing that he was lying through his teeth. Thinking that he had satisfied Scarlett's curiosity, Mr. Holmes began to walk towards the backdoor; he began to step outside. Before he shut the door, Scarlett turned around in her chair to face him.

"You're such a liar… a good one, I'll give you that. You could care less what the public thinks about you. Nevertheless, the public will know the real you... that's for sure. Your personal vanity is stupendous and never fails to amaze me; it becomes you. It was your god complex that led you to mislead John… pure narcissism," she grinned.

Sherlock Holmes chuckled as he lightly closed the door behind him while he walked out. Scarlett's pride was just as visible as Mr. Holmes' when she realized that she had just deduced him.

After Sherlock Holmes left the kitchen, Scarlett stood up and headed towards her bedroom. She put The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes back on her bookshelf and pulled down The Return of Sherlock Holmes. She headed back into the kitchen. Scarlett thought that she'd stay near the backdoor incase her grandparents needed help carrying in groceries when they got home. Actually, she wasn't that selfless. Her grandfather promised to take her out driving when they got home. Reading had been the only pastime of hers that seemed to make time go quickly. She leaned into the kitchen counter and opened her book. The Adventure of the Empty House began with the 'Great Hiatus' and Sherlock's revelation to Dr. Watson. She held her head up with her hands and put all her weight on her elbows as she began re-reading. She swayed with boredom as she stood. Suddenly, the backdoor swung open and banged loudly against the wall of the kitchen. Scarlett was startled and quickly turned around to see who it could possibly be since her grandparents would never enter a room with such hurriedness or suddenness. An elderly man shuffled into the kitchen while holding an enormous stack of books. He tilted the books so that the top one fell to the floor. It opened up to two pages that had words scribbled across the length of the pages:

'My deepest apologies for lying. I had no idea that my self-love would have such an effect on you.'

It only took Scarlett a few blinks to realize who it was before she rang out in laughter. While giggling, she skipped towards the old man and started to playfully push him back out the door.

"Go home, Sherlock! Get outta here. I forgive you, now go!" she laughed.

The elderly disguised Sherlock smirked as she shoved him out the door. She calmed herself down to a smile as she leaned against the shut door.

_He's such a smartass._


	4. Episode 3

**Episode 3:**

**The Scarlett Letter**

Scarlett's 25th birthday was just around the corner. The last few decades went fast as she had brushed off schooling quite easily. Of course, she graduated with flying colors but she didn't see school as much of an achievement in her life. Yes, she admits that she's a smarter individual from it, but she didn't know what to do with the rest of her life. Even in 1979, jobs for women were limited. Scarlett's passion for detection work wouldn't do her any good. It was a childish and unrealistic dream but that didn't mean her love for it died. It just wasn't practical. Besides, even if she had a shot at being a female detective, she couldn't pay for any further required schooling for the career. She wasn't ready or ambitious enough to thrust herself into the world of working and become a citizen of society. Getting a job and living somewhere else seemed to be the ambition of Anita and her fellow graduates but not Scarlett. Her negative view on traditional ambitions and ways of life didn't motivate her to 'get out in the world'… as people would call it. About 6 years out of schooling had past and she still lived at home. Living anywhere but with her grandparents never crossed her mind, even though she's always thought of her home as a bore. At least she had the company of a good friend that wore an outlandish hat and boastful personality.

Scarlett's grandfather, Douglas Bathurst, passed away May of 1976. It wasn't until after his death that Scarlett had an interest in knowing about his past. Emma was willing to sit down with her a day to go through all of Douglas's possessions but she didn't last very long. Scarlett took a day to sit down by herself with her grandfather's things. After all the years of not caring, Scarlett finally realized what the boxes were that he always carried around: they were snuff boxes. Most of them were made of mother-of-pearl. Not only did he smoke tobacco but he sniffed it as well. Scarlett was rather surprised that he lived as long as he did when she discovered that he did both. Of course, now it makes sense as to why he didn't want her snooping around inside them. Going through his paperwork, the boxes only made more sense to her when she found out that he had worked for a company called 'Wilsons of Sharrow'. Apparently, it is or was located in Sheffield, U.K. Scarlett knew that her grandparents met in the U.K., so it's only logical to assume that they met while he was employed there. There were dresser drawers filled with pins and photos of his youth. Random, little objects were all over the place. Cigar boxes contained nickels and dimes while ancient piano sheet music covered bottoms of drawers. A British Royal Artillery Helmet Plate was, seemingly secretly, stuffed inside a sock in his bottom drawer. Not ever being enlisted in the army, Scarlett only assumed it was memorabilia of a lost friend or relative. In the box of paperwork, Scarlett also found a journal that told of her grandparents' trip to America. Obviously written in her grandfather's handwriting, Scarlett learnt about how they got to travel in an early steamship. It was just a couple years before the ships got more popular as more immigrants came to America as well. The only thing that got Scarlett confused was from trying to figure out why her grandfather even kept a journal on their voyage. According to the papers, he and her grandmother were just married days before the trip began. Her grandfather had the time to write an entire journal worth of thoughts down... with a new wife on board a steamship. Scarlett knew her grandfather was kind of a stale person, but he couldn't have been at that age; especially as a newlywed.

Where could she have been?

Her grandmother has been going about her daily routines around the house as if nothing was any different. Scarlett knew better, of course. Coping isn't easy for a woman like Emma when she relied on her husband all these years; independence wasn't her style. For the first time in her life, Scarlett Bathurst felt a sense of guilt for her grandmother's depression. Obviously, it wasn't her fault that Douglas passed away but Scarlett hid her emotions from Emma. Her grandmother suspected Scarlett of having no heart. Realistically, Scarlett knew his death was fast approaching. The process and concept of death didn't surprise her in the least, because Sherlock explained the importance of not getting too attached to others. Biased feelings can lead to faulted reasoning. On the contrary, Scarlett had never witnessed death before; especially the death of someone she loved. Although she tried to keep a poker face in front of Emma, she could not hold back her emotions in private. Any questions or opinions of events, good or bad, of Emma's past with Douglas did not matter to Scarlett at the moment. Emma loved her husband and Scarlett could see that quite clearly. The lonely nights in her bedroom was Scarlett's personal time to let it out. Sherlock Holmes stayed in the shadowy corners of her room, ignoring her. She knew that he wasn't going to approach her until her emotional episodes ended for good. He warned her to avoid something that she could not control. In those days of isolation from her friend, she made a decision for herself that defies her teacher… based on his own teachings.

Scarlett took some time to think about the changes that were occurring in her life, and she realized that she wasn't going anywhere. She never expected herself to nor did she want to. There was nowhere to go. The only thing that life has to offer her is change and she was prepared for it.

One spring evening in 1978, Scarlett Bathurst pulled out an old, brown and rusty treasure chest that was under her bed and placed it upon her bed sheets. She wasn't a fan of playing with toys, other than her Barbie dolls as a child, so the chest was completely empty. It wasn't the only aspect of the room that was empty since materialistic behavior wasn't a quality she possessed; it never has been. In fact, anyone could take a glimpse at that room and question if any living soul lived there at all. Scarlett's personal space was most certainly her own and she did with it what she pleasured. On this night, all the lights were off in the room; the only light was from an orange and red sunset that shone through the half-closed blinds of the window. The brightness and vacancy of the room made the outlines of dust particles more apparent in the light. The baby blue colored wallpaper was unnoticeable to the human eye in that kind of darkness. Scarlett had taken all the Sherlock Holmes books off her bookshelf and placed them on top of her bed, right next to her open chest. Standing in front of the chest, she picked up A Study in Scarlet and started to form a nostalgic smile as she stared down at it with misty eyes. The Basil Rathbone-faced Sherlock Holmes emerged from one of the shadowy corners for the first time in weeks. He had his deerstalker on and cane in hand; he did not have his robe attire on… he was dressed to go out. Scarlett continued to stare at the book even though she knew of his presence.

"I took your advice and guidance throughout my whole life," she reminisced aloud. "And I do believe that you have changed me… maybe not for the better, but you have changed me into who I am now and I thank you for that."

Mr. Holmes took a single step closer.

"You don't have to, you know," he whispered. "If my guidance is of use to you, then consider this: You've never done what pleases others and you shouldn't now. We're all damaged in the end when we have something to lose. Love is a despicable disadvantage to one's well-being when shared with someone other than oneself. Do what makes you feel blissful, no one else. You have a gift to see the world as it is but you're also a romantic. Channel it; you don't have to support Emma. Once she's gone, what are you going to do? The same thing you're going to do while supporting her. You'll love her now and after her passing… but there can only be one inevitable outcome. Change is not always for the best when it is used for the wrong purpose; that purpose being your well-being. There's so much more practical things to look forward to in life than people. All things end, Scarlett."

While Sherlock spoke his short plea, Scarlett never made eye contact and never looked away from the book in her hands.

"I questioned your morals before," Scarlett sniveled. "Do you remember? I suppose I never finished my deduction that is just, oh so, obvious. You left your beloved friend, Dr. Watson, in mourning for many, many years… but you didn't just come back for the Adair murder, did you? Do not try to lie to me for I know you are not a hypocrite. Vanity kept you astray but love brought you back. It is, indeed, a disadvantage, but we are all guilty of being romantics. I love Emmy and Douglas as well. I'll never stop and I must continue my devotion to my family until they are gone. In order to do so, I must stop being selfish and do what needs to be done. I've never held the responsibilities of this life in high regard but now I must take care of Emmy since she is all I have. I know what uneventful life lies ahead of me… I've known of my unfavorable fate since I was a mere child. It was only a matter of time. This moment… this exact moment is the one thing that I always knew life would be able to give me… the only thing to look forward to… a goal: change."

Scarlett let a tear fall as she continued her speech.

"I worship you, Sherlock Holmes. I always have… you know I do. You've always been right and taught me how to be joyful in circumstances that are anything but! You've never been wrong and you're not going to start. I am in control of my decisions, and I chose to not experience loss or hurt. I choose to be detached from the positive aspects of life… for being isolated protects me. My life is a tragedy and nothing more. As I just said, you've always been right, and you're not going to stop now. I love you; and for that reason, I am saying goodbye."

Scarlett slowly started to place each book into the rusty, old chest on the bed. Scarlett Bathurst struggled to shut the lid of the chest but had a less difficult time gently placing it onto the floor. She slid it under the bed, and once she did, she looked up to behold an empty, moonlit bedroom.

In order to keep the house afloat, Scarlett finally pushed herself to drive her grandfather's worn-down 1951 Ford Crestliner. She got a waitress job in the summer of 1978; purchasing a newer vehicle was now a priority. She saw her job at Peaches the same way she saw her childhood days in the front yard. She analyzed and made up stories about everyone at the tables in order to avoid boredom and disgust for human behavior. Her vision of looking at everything for what it is had never changed with her. Those qualities made her who she is now. She has always had a passion for thinking analytically. She would look for who is rich, who's poor, who's impatient, and who's starving. People would probably never expect a stranger, such as Scarlett the Waitress, to notice so much about them from just one glance. Analytical skills just weren't enough; she didn't want to live in a world of imagination as she has done for the past 25 years of her life. Her view of the world never changed, but she wanted to try and see glory in it. Changing the angles of her perception wasn't easy, but at least she gave it a shot by doing what she knew was best: change. Scarlett spent time doing chores with her grandmother but she hadn't done much with her otherwise. She decided to tag along with Emma on her trips to Prospect Park despite Emma's wishes. Surprisingly, Emma was delighted by her company and even insisted that Scarlett should go out onto the Duck Pond. To Scarlett, it seemed more logical to go to Brower Park instead of Prospect Park since Brower was practically their backyard. She knew how important Prospect is to Emma, so she didn't raise an argument every time they went; it was quality time with her grandmother that she wasn't about to screw up. They eventually began to bond as a family more than they ever did before Douglas passed away. Guilt-ridden by realizing how much her grandfather probably would've loved to get to know her better, Scarlett started to realize how wrong she had been in the past to listen to and obey her storybook friend. Emma was overjoyed by the change in Scarlett's behavior, even though it wasn't as genuine as she thought, but Scarlett could see her happiness. She decided to spend more time with her old friend, Anita, in hopes that they'd bond more than they ever did in school. Her personal view on life may still be just as depressing, but Scarlett Bathurst learned to imitate the emotions of her loved ones… almost subconsciously. She was at a moment in her life where she didn't know if her thoughts were in control of her emotions or if her emotions were in control of her own thoughts. This was an experiment that she was willing to test and hypothesize for the time being; she had amusement at last for the first time in a long time… a time that was still forever changing.

In October of 1979, Scarlett Bathurst had the most horrible day from start to finish. Horrible, as in, she was just in a bad mood from the exhaustion of work. All her customers appeared annoying to her even though they were in perfectly good moods. It was just Scarlett's perspective. Scarlett's old temper never really went away; she only knew how to control it. The process may have taken awhile but she finally learned how to calm down without the help of her detective friend. Nevertheless, it's quite obvious that she's just not a people-person. One day she'll be absolutely fascinated with her customers and the next day she'll regret even coming into work. When work was done on that particular day, she was preparing to drive home to her grandmother. Before she drove home, she visited Anita to kill off some stress. Anita knows how irritated her friend gets around people now that Scarlett is more open with her friend about herself. After a cup of coffee at Anita's, she said goodbye to Anita and her father and headed home for the night. Apparently, her grandmother had been anxiously waiting for her. Being empty-headed, Scarlett forgot to call ahead and tell her she was going to be late coming home. As soon as Scarlett arrived and stepped through the front door, she began apologizing for the lateness of the hour. Exhaustion made Scarlett more irritable than ever, so she got frustrated when she noticed that her grandmother kept trying to interrupt her. Emma halted Scarlett's apologizes and handed her granddaughter the real reason for her anxiety. It turns out that Scarlett had gotten a letter in the mail without a return address; Emma was more inquisitive than worried. Her grandmother gave her the letter, deeply curious as to what was inside. With as much curiosity as Emma, Scarlett opened the letter that was addressed to her:

Dearest Scarlett,

_I highly recommend that you reconsider. I hope this changes your mind. _ The Doctor

Scarlett didn't even bother to think before she spoke aloud:

"The Doctor? Doctor Who?"


	5. Episode 4

**Episode 4:**

**The Oncoming Storm**

Scarlett kept the letter, just in case. She stashed it away in a Royal Albert teapot where they hide any emergency funds and important documents such as any medical records, banking and mortgage papers, etc. Nothing in that teapot was of any significance to Scarlett but it was immensely significant to Emma so Scarlett didn't go near it often. Even Mr. Bathurst didn't touch it. The entire tea set sits safely on the top shelf of a kitchen cupboard that's above the countertops. The letter had no significance. They didn't know who or where it was from. All they could do was hope that nothing else arrived at their door unexpectedly from the same person, so they shrugged off the mysterious letter as insignificant.

It was November of 1979 and soon time for Thanksgiving. Scarlett's grandmother hasn't really been excited around the holidays as of late, so Scarlett thought it would be a great idea to have Anita and her father come over for Thanksgiving. That way, there will be a feeling of family again; just enough to lighten up the household and Emma's mood. Well, that was the plan. Scarlett and her grandmother could cook together like the 'good ole days'; or at least, that's what Emma said. First things first, Scarlett had to go to the grocery store on this current day. It wasn't exactly what Scarlett defined as a fun outing. It was extremely busy for a Tuesday, but then again, it was two days before the holiday. Scarlett had the whole week off of work which was nice. She wasn't too fond of the crowd though. Nonetheless, there was a ton of shopping that had to be done. Scarlett took a sigh and began the procedure as she got into the squeaky Ford and headed to the Family Grocery on Albany Avenue.

She made it to the end of her grocery list until she realized that she forgotten something. She forgot the milk as soon as she reached a check-out line, and with her luck, it didn't surprise her. The dairy products were at the far end of the store. She made it just in time when she reached the dairy aisle. There was only a liter in stock and no pints left; mostly gallons. Her and her grandmother didn't need much milk for the baking, and they weren't big milk drinkers in the first place. Right when she was about to put the liter into her cart, a man tapped her on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, ma'am," an older gentleman spoke in a strong Scottish accent. "Is that the last liter of milk? I hate to trouble you, but I've only got enough cash on me for a liter and not a whole gallon."

Scarlett was a little annoyed by his request but she knew what he was implying. She didn't want to be rude, even though she knew he was lying for no good reason; there's not that much of a price difference. He could easily purchase a gallon. Scarlett put on a fake smile as she replied.

"Here," she smiled as she handed him the milk. "I suppose I can afford a gallon with a grocery list this size already."

She looked down at her cart as he chuckled aloud:

"Thank you!"

As he walked away, Scarlett took a second to look him over. Late 50's, white and short hair, formal suit, and intimidating, large eyes. There was no justified reason for approaching her… well… none that she could see. The only feature that gave her a slight chill was the darkness of his eyes. They didn't have the same glimmer in them like her grandfather used to have.

Scarlett eventually got to the check-out line and made it out of the store in less than an hour. That's what Scarlett called an accomplishment. She began putting the groceries into her car when she looked up and saw the man that had bugged her earlier. He must've waited in a really long line if he just got checked out. She watched him as he left the store. He didn't walk through the parking lot; he walked around the corner of the building towards the back. She guessed that maybe he walked to the store.

It's only courteous to offer him a ride home.

She threw the rest of the bags into the vehicle and drove towards the back of the store. When she made it around the corner, she caught a glimpse of him walking into a blue box.

A blue Police Call box? Is that even American?

This box was the first interesting thing that she's seen in years.

Has that always been there? Why haven't I seen them around anywhere else?

Curiosity got the best of her.

If he went into a box that says 'police', does that mean he needs help?

She couldn't be sure. She'll never have a professional job as a female detective, but she's not going to pass up on some police-related action if there was any. Scarlett got out of her car and approached the box. Before she opened the door, she banged on the door.

"Are you alright? Do you need the police for some…?" She opened the door and immediately fainted.

Scarlett woke up in her bedroom; the window was wide open. Shivering from the cold, she rushed out of her bed to shut it before she felt dizzy again. She laid back down on her bed, knowing that she got up much too quickly. It was evening most likely; it was pretty dark outside. After getting her head straight, she quickly sat up in bed for she had suddenly remembered the blue box. Now, the question of the hour is: What did Scarlett see when she opened the door? She laid down again to ponder about it for a few moments.

It was bigger on the inside… nonsense. The box was against the grocery store wall; it must've been connected to a backroom of the store. However, that was a pretty ridiculous looking room to have at a food department store. It looked like a control room that might belong to the government. A military base or maybe NASA owns it. They must be up to something.

All those theories were preposterous and she knew it. Scarlett had to shake off all those thoughts. She couldn't have seen what she saw; it wasn't possible. The more logical question is: How did she get back home? Her body shot up into a sitting position when she realized the likelihood of who might have brought her home.

Scarlett jumped out of bed and wandered into the kitchen where her grandmother was unpacking the groceries. Beside her was the old man from the store. He was helping out as well.

"Gram?" Scarlett mumbled. "How'd I get home with all the groceries?"

Her grandmother gave her a grin as she spoke.

"This man from the store saw you pass out while loading up your bags. Poor darling; I didn't know you've been so exhausted. Now, I want you to back to your room and lie down."

Scarlett simply stared at the man to see if he would say anything. He smiled up at her and approached her.

"Thanks again for the milk," he grinned as he stuck out his hand. "The name's John Smith. Nice to properly meet you."

Scarlett returned the greeting.

"Scarlett Bathurst. I really appreciate the trouble you've gone through to help me out back there."

"No problem," he replied.

He was lying, obviously. Scarlett knew it. Analyzing him, she took a casual step back as she released his hand. He didn't make any mention of the box and the real reason she blacked out. He also knew where she lived which wasn't mentioned to him at all in the store. She had to make sure he stayed nearby so she could have a private chat with the man.

Something's up with this guy.

"No, it really must've been a problem! Please, stay for Thanksgiving this week with us. It's the least I can do," Scarlett pleaded rather craftily.

John Smith stared at her for only a few brief moments before she noticed that he didn't know what to say. He looked away and stared down at his hands while he spoke.

"That's a sweet offer but I already have plans. I really can't stay. I might as well head out now since most of the food is put away. I mustn't trouble you folks any more than I already have."

He began to back away, still facing them, towards the backdoor.

"Please," Scarlett pleaded. "At least stay for some coffee tonight!"

"Not much of a coffee-drinker. I… I'm more of a tea person… honest. I'll be off now," he stammered as he opened the backdoor.

He certainly made haste in stepping out the door. It was official: He was nervous and Scarlett could detect it. John Smith suspected that Ms. Bathurst knew he was anxious so he left as quickly as possible. That was all she needed to observe in order for her to make up her mind to intimidate him even further.

He was already half way up the street when Scarlett opened the door to go after him. He was speed walking with both hands in his pant pockets. She had to run to catch up to him as she went around the corner of the house.

"Hey," she spoke, breathlessly.

He glanced over at her, but he didn't bother to stop walking while they spoke.

"I think you owe me an explanation," Scarlett spoke in an angry tone of voice.

Mr. Smith walked on without saying a word. He had an irritated look on his face. Scarlett stormed along right beside him, not knowing where they were headed. She wasn't about to leave his side without an explanation. They quickly stomped down the street for nearly five minutes. If this is how he was going to play it then so be it; Scarlett was going to play it out too and wait. It was so cold that they could see their breath. Mr. Smith had his suit coat on, but Scarlett ran out the backdoor without even thinking about grabbing anything for warmth. However, she could've cared less. Ms. Bathurst was too aggravated with the stranger to focus on anything else. They both looked pretty uncompromising and annoyed… not talking to one another. Any witnesses that night would've probably sworn it was smoke coming out of them, not breath. Lit underneath a lamppost, Scarlett could see the blue box in the distance. They were heading straight for it. She finally broke the silence.

"Oh and I'm sure you have another great excuse as to how you moved your box here as well as me and the groceries. Did you think it lonely and put it in the back of my car?"

Scarlett's smartass remarks only irritated Mr. Smith, because he knew she was getting upset with him. Mr. Smith stopped in his tracks and aggressively turned to face Scarlett.

"You weren't supposed to see that back at the store today. What you saw wasn't any of your business. Go home where you belong, Miss Bathurst," he demanded.

He approached the box and unlocked the door, but he didn't open it. He held the door handle to make sure it stayed shut. He stared into Scarlett's eyes while impatiently waiting for her to turn around. Scarlett crossed her arms across her chest and stuck her nose in the air in a most arrogant fashion.

"What's inside that box?" she asked in a high-pitch voice.

A change in tone while approaching the question might get something out of him.

Mr. Smith's mouth, while looking at the blue door, cocked into a small grin. His large eyes widened as he focused his attention on Scarlett. Staring at her for a few seconds, he breathed in a large whiff of cold air.

"How about I tell you and you just take my word for it."

Scarlett squinted her eyes at him. He wasn't about to open those doors for her anytime soon; that much was obvious.

"Alright… tell me. Surprise me," she said as she put her hands on her hips in a sassy manner.

John Smith's grin developed into a full smile that displayed a large set of teeth.

"She's called the T.A.R.D.I.S.: Time and relative dimension in space… and she's mine. She can travel everywhere and anywhere in all of time and space. I ran away with her and never really stopped." He paused for a moment while the look on his face resembled that of a child who just told a friend an amazing secret. "Would you… be interested in coming with me?" he asked, calmly.

Scarlett merely looked at him as if he were mad. A small grin came upon her face now. She giggled for a second. She giggled until those giggles turned into laughter. The man simply watched her with a different grin on his face. At first, the look on his face was that of excitement. His current face, still grinning, was genuine and patient; it was a look of serenity and kindness. He was not hurt by her mockery, but he embraced it as if he knew more than her.

"Why is it a blue box? You have a time machine, as you tell me, and it's a blue box."

She obviously didn't take Mr. Smith seriously. In an instant, his face became childish again.

"It's supposed to materialize to its surroundings to make its external appearance blend in with its environment, but the chameleon circuit became damaged while it was disguised as a 1963 Police Call box. I never got around to fixing it…" he said rather casually.

Scarlett kept smiling at the man, finding his explanations amusing. He looked as if he didn't even have to think about his answer.

"You've got quite the imagination, don't you?" she asked.

"I like to think so," the man replied.

"No, really, Mr. Smith," Scarlett questioned with a more serious attitude. "What are you? A magician? A con-man? Are you just making up stories so I'll be a friend? That was a cute story… I'll admit. You made me laugh. But in all seriousness… I know what I saw earlier today. I would like the real explanation. My patience is running thin."

Scarlett waited for his answer. She wasn't playing anymore.

"But you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine, Mr. Smith. I asked first."

"I asked second," Mr. Smith said rather matter-of-factly.

Now he's being the smartass and Scarlett was starting to get annoyed all over again. Scarlett began to whisper as she continued to question his motives.

"If this isn't any of my business, why didn't you stop me from walking with you from my house to this box? Leave me curious as to what I saw inside of it earlier and never let me know?"

John Smith looked down and smiled his most genuine smile.

"I'm vain."

"Well, at least you're honest."

"I'm really not," the man smirked.

The same kind look remained on his face. Quickly, John Smith opened the door just enough for him to squeeze inside. Within a second, Mr. Smith quickly jumped into the box and slammed the door so that Scarlett couldn't see the interior.

"No, wait! Tell me anything. Something! The truth, Mr. Smith!" she shouted as she pounded her fists on the box's doors.

She was determined to stay there all night if she had to. Startled, she jumped back when the box make a loud 'bong' noise. Mr. Smith cracked the door open enough to peep his head out.

"My name isn't John Smith. I'm the Doctor."

And with that said, the blue box dematerialized before Scarlett's eyes.

Impossible.

She wobbled her way back home, trying not to faint again.

Impossible. Maybe I've hit my head on the concrete harder than I originally thought.

It occurred to her that he might not have even been real.

With her house in sight, Scarlett stumbled into her grandmother's flower bed to rest a moment. It wasn't an easy task for her to comprehend what she saw because she couldn't have possibly seen it. After inhaling the aroma of the flowers, Scarlett lifted herself off the ground and headed towards the front door. She thought that it would be for the best if she went to the hospital. It's the only explanation for all of the facts. She stepped inside her home to find her grandmother sitting at the dining room table. Emma spoke before Scarlett could ask her to drive her over for medical attention.

"Did you catch up with John, dear?" she asked.

"Yes, Emmy, I did. I just wanted to say goodbye," Scarlett grumbled.

Scarlett lifted her finger and opened her mouth to speak again when Emma interrupted her by standing up. Her grandmother came over and gave her a hug.

"I suppose he won't have to send you a 'Get Well' card after all."

Scarlett glared at her.

"What?" she asked urgently.

Her grandmother took a step back from the embrace and looked up at her granddaughter.

"That man didn't know if you'd wake up by the time he left, so I gave him an empty envelope and put our address on it so that he could send you a 'Get Well' card. He insisted on it. He said you'd probably appreciate one."

Her grandmother gave her a kiss goodnight and headed for the bedroom while Scarlett just stood there in shock. Her previous concern had no resonance in her mind now.

"I only met him today," she whispered to herself, terrified.

All her thoughts collided into each other: both logical and illogical. She ran, frantically, to look for the teapot. Stretching onto her tiptoes to reach, she pulled the pot off the shelf. Sweaty fingers tried to grip onto the pot as best they could while she placed it onto the countertop. All the documents were poured onto the counter as she quickly scanned through every paper until she found the one that she desired. She reread it with shaking hands.

"Impossible."


	6. Episode 5

**Episode 5:**

**One Swallow Does Not a Summer Make**

Thanksgiving arrived and everyone was at the Bathurst's residence. After all the years of knowing each other, Anita had never been to Scarlett's house before that day. Anita, being herself, was benevolent but pointed out any peculiarities that weren't to her liking. Emma wasn't sure what she thought of Scarlett's lifelong friend, especially when she announces that the gray, metal table doesn't match with the kitchen's various shades of green and brown, wooden cabinets. The gray backdoor with the white curtain was the only aspect of the room that matched the table. Scarlett smiled and rolled her eyes at her friend's first impression. Anita didn't realize that Emma would take the trivial comments as insults, nonetheless, Emma didn't mention it. However, Scarlett noticed her grandmother's dislike of the Johnson family's snobbish behavior, so she sat beside her at the too small dinner table. They gathered around the table, about to dig in, when there was a knock at the front door. Scarlet excused herself from the table to go answer it. She opened the door to find the Doctor.

"I've changed my mind about the dinner today, if that's fine with you. Turns out my plans were cancelled due to a change of heart," he smiled.

Of course, Scarlett invited him in. She introduced him as John Smith to Anita and her father. He's come back for Scarlett's answer, but she couldn't give it to him until the two of them were alone.

Once the feast was over that evening, everyone started to go their separate ways. Anita and her father left through the front door… they didn't even consider the convenience of the backdoor. Emma had an irritated look on her face as she started to clean up the dishes. The Doctor was finishing up his desert at the table when Scarlett approached her grandmother at the sink.

"I'm not...," Emma spoke while trying to find a word that wouldn't insult her granddaughter. "I'm not fond of them. They're stuck-up. They didn't even thank us for the meal we slaved over yesterday."

Scarlett put her hand on her grandmother's back and leaned in for a kiss on her cheek.

"I know she's posh, Emmy, but she's my dear friend. She can be quite sweet when she puts her mind to it. She doesn't mean to be rude… honest," Scarlett smiled.

Emma's straight face didn't smile along with Scarlett's. She had a look of concern on her face.

"Is she really a wise choice of friend? I mean, you always were depressed in one way or another… maybe… she isn't too good of an influence," Emma whispered up at her.

Mild shock struck Scarlett's face as she stared speechlessly at her grandmother. She lightly shook her head 'no' as she walked away from Emma as if she couldn't believe her grandmother would say such a thing. It wasn't a shake of disbelief; it was a shake of disappointment. Her life choices are always being questioned whether they're good ones or bad ones. She just wanted to invite friends to dinner so that her grandmother could be happy again. Scarlett didn't blame herself for Emma's disgust; Scarlett believed that Emma should blame herself. The years haven't changed Scarlett's personality as much as Emma thought they did. Selfishness will always be one of her best qualities in herself; the behavior is justified and doesn't make her feel horrible about herself.

Scarlett walked towards the Doctor and nudged his arm.

"You stay inside, Emma, and get ready for bed," Scarlett muttered flatly. "I'll show Mr. Smith out."

The Doctor looked up at her and got the hint. He stood up and handed Emma his plate.

"I hope to see you again soon, Mrs. Bathurst. You've made a beautiful and delicious banquet that was only fit for a king. That would explain why I ate most of it," he smiled.

Emma's mouth broke into a small smile at his humor. Scarlett didn't appreciate his efforts to lighten her up. She walked to the backdoor and opened it up for him. The look of annoyance on her face made him hurry. The two of them walked behind the house and, low and behold, the blue box was sitting in what seemed like a bad excuse for a backyard. The Doctor leaned against it as he spoke.

"I assume you got my 'Get Well' card."

Scarlett didn't really know what to say.

"I picked a day that I thought you'd appreciate it. A card lightens up a person's day. It certainly does mine. I thought you might like a little twist to the end of the day."

"But," Scarlett interrupted. "I didn't know you then! I didn't pass out until the following month, just two days ago."

The Doctor gave her a smirk and laughed.

"I wanted to give you a 'Get Well' card but not for the day of your fainting. You were having a pretty crummy day when I dropped off your letter. Your perspective of people and life were pretty ignorant, don't you think? It still is. You seemed… bored. In fact, you always do. I thought you might like a little twist. An adventure, perhaps."

"Mr. Smith, have you been spying on me?" she asked in a panicky voice.

"The Doctor," he corrected. "And yes, I've been spying on you. Would you like to see how?"

The Doctor was now being the serious one. He propped his elbow level with his head along the machine's wooden wall as he leaned all of his body weight on his arm in a very nonchalant manner. Instead of resting his head in his risen hand, he posed his middle finger and thumb into a snapping position. Although consumed with curiosity, Scarlett shook her head 'no'. The Doctor's serious facial expression now seemed to be just a confused as Scarlett.

"I'm perfectly fine where I am," Scarlett hesitantly protested.

"Oh, please. Just keep telling yourself that. You know it's not true," the Doctor snarled.

"I love the life I've been given. I have no desire for tricks and illusions or whatever else you have behind those doors. I'm not going anywhere with a perfect stranger whether it's in a snog box or car or whatever!"

"You're only saying that to be nice. You're ashamed to say otherwise!" he announced.

"Ashamed? I most certainly am not!"

"Then you wouldn't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Scarlett yelled.

"Your grandmother is sweet as pie – an absolute delight. A cozy, little home gives you the feeling of a safe haven – a place you can always feel welcome. A space of your very own filled with people who love you! But you're unhappy. And you're ashamed to say so. Why? Because you haven't the right to complain otherwise! So you tell yourself that what's handed to you is the best you've got, and in order to be happy, then you must be happy with what you have! Never settle for less, my dear. Never be embarrassed or scared to say you're unhappy. Being at peace with yourself means no excitement. You seek the thrill! The adventure! I'm handing you something that life hasn't. Take it!"

Before Scarlett had a chance to speak, the Doctor opened the T.A.R.D.I.S. door with the snap of his fingers. The impossible universe behind those doors wasn't a part of her imagination. It was real. Scarlett's being could not comprehend what she was witnessing. Her body gave up on her the first time around; it responded this time too. She was completely frozen where she stood and didn't even breathe. She did not gawk at the marvel of it all, and she did not blink… not once. The Doctor skipped inside since he already had an idea of what her reaction might have been. He waited inside for her to follow but she didn't. Normally, people who enter the machine follow him inside to gape at his beautiful machine. He spun around in childlike annoyance to find out why she didn't come in. He took huge strides out of the T.A.R.D.I.S. and went behind Scarlett. She didn't acknowledge his presence, or any presence for that matter, except the world in front of her. He patiently stood behind her and swayed his body while checking his wristwatch on occasion. After a good 10 seconds, he suddenly pushed Scarlett forward to break her shock. She managed to catch herself mid-fall and balanced herself on the box's entrance doors. She looked down and saw that her right foot was inside. She started hyperventilating as a tiny grin forced its way on her face. She may be out of the initial shock, but she still couldn't muster up the willpower to move her legs. The Doctor snuck up beside her and grabbed her hand. He tugged her further inside while studying her excitement. When Scarlett took a step into the machine, the power of the dimension change was overwhelming. She stood in the control room and looked around with tears in her eyes. The Doctor ran past her, shutting the doors, and started playing with the controls as if he was used to seeing people be flabbergasted when looking at his machine for the first time. The Doctor eventually snapped her out of the trance.

"Preferences?" he asked.

Scarlett slowly drew her eyes to him.

"Impossible," she mumbled.

"What?" the Doctor asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Did you say, 'impossible'? I'm afraid you are incorrect, my dear. Slowly let it sink in but don't take too long!"

She wasn't listening to him laugh at his own play on words as she murmured.

"…When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Scarlett didn't even think about what she said until she spoke it aloud.

"Oh brother…" the Doctor exasperated. "We've got a literary buff on board."

Of course, he was being playfully sarcastic. He just wanted to get a reaction out of her.

"You like Shakespeare? Met him once, you know. He wasn't exactly how I pictured him…" he started to mutter to himself.

Scarlett was only half listening to him.

"Literary buff?" she asked, offended.

"Well, Scarlett, I can only assume so if you're going to quote Sherlock Holmes on a regular basis," he yearned.

"You know of Sherlock Holmes?" she queried excitedly.

"Why, of course I do! He's only the most famous fictional detective in the world. Everyone knows who he is."

"Consulting detective," Scarlett corrected. "The world's only consulting detective."

"I think I'm going to like you, Miss Scarlett Bathurst. I suppose that while you're traveling with me… if you're going to quote Sherlock Holmes then I'm allowed to quote someone. No one better than myself," he beamed.

To Scarlett, he wasn't making any sense. Again, she was only half paying attention.

"Like me? I haven't rightly decided if I even like you! You haven't given me a straight answer since I met you," she complained.

"Yes, I did! I told you what I do," he defended.

"Lies," Scarlett snapped. "You haven't explained the logic behind any of this!"

"Well," the Doctor replied while scratching the back of his head. "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but 'actually' from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint – it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly… time-y wimey… stuff."

Scarlett just looked at him with a clueless look on her face.

"You're kidding me, right? That didn't tell me a thing. I can tell I'm not going to like you already," Scarlett started to playfully pout.

She was starting to act like her normal self again.

"What makes you think I want to travel with you?"

The Doctor approached Scarlett, nearly half an inch away from her face, when he looked into her eyes.

"All of time and space; everywhere and anywhere; every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?"

It all started with that question. Who could deny a chance like that? Scarlett's perspective on life itself changed all over again. The sad part about it was that she knew it wasn't impossible. It happened once before to her. Her childhood obsession with Basil was a lie. It was a product of something bigger, the product of the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Everyday life was just a product too. Not everything was what it seemed; life was a product of time and space, a product of the type of life the Doctor lives. It wasn't even scary to think about infinity anymore when she traveled with the Doctor. It felt like nothing ended; there was always something to look forward to. Metaphorically, it was easy to forget what position she had in the whole picture of life when she was the one painting it. Time can be altered and actions can change. Scarlett had to face those facts while traveling this alien… and one fact that she now lives by:

"There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," Scarlett thoughtlessly whispered aloud.

"Sorry, I didn't hear that. What'd you say, Scarlett?" he asked one day.

Scarlett giggled and shrugged her mindless comment aside.

"Nothing, Doctor. I'm talking to myself."

Scarlett was taking it easy while the Doctor contemplated on where to go next. He had to get Scarlett's 'okay' as to where to go. She had a bit of a temper with him from the start so she didn't have him on her good side when deciding where to go. He accidently dropped her lipstick into the Milky-way and landed the T.A.R.D.I.S. underwater on some planet or moon. It's true that they've had a few death-defying voyages but nothing too emotionally scarring. Scarlett had some tough skin, but the Doctor, however, clearly had tougher. They were both prepared for everything and anything that lie ahead, not because they are strong-willed creatures, but because they are always anxious for cheap thrills; they only seem worthwhile in the long-run.

On this particular day, the Doctor wanted to sing a song to Ludwig van Beethoven which the Doctor wrote himself. Scarlett shot down that trip; it wasn't really the brightest idea. Given the choice between picking a spot selected by the Doctor and picking her own place, she chose to take advantage of the privilege of even having her own option… most of the time. The Doctor, however, had more interesting adventures. He always seemed to get into trouble.

"I'm always telling my friends that we're going to visit the planet of Barcelona, but I never seem to get around to it. I want to go there," the Doctor pouted.

Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"The planet resided by dogs with no noses? No thank you. I'd like to go somewhere that you don't consider 'fantastic'; they always turn out to be quite the opposite of your choice in adjectives. My time with you is a one-time thing, but I have the power to choose how I spend it."

Standing next to the T.A.R.D.I.S.'s consul, the Doctor crossed his arms in a childish way and let out an obnoxious sigh. Obviously, he didn't think she was being very fair. She had picked the last three locations which mainly involved vacation spots. The more he thought about what she just said, the more the Doctor began to frown as if he thought too deeply about her thoughtless comment about choice in destinations. Scarlett, with her hands in her pockets, slowly approached her friend and whipped out a penny.

"Let's toss a coin!" she suggested as she broke the Doctor's concentration.


	7. Episode 6

**Episode 6:**

**Heads or Tails?**

"Oh no. Oh no. Oh Jesus," Scarlett whimpered as she frantically paced outside the T.A.R.D.I.S. door.

She pounded her fists wildly on the door again.

"Doctor!" she shouted.

Her hands started to anxiously rub each other as she started pacing once more… eventually, she gave up and stood still while staring up at the doors' windows. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute.

What is taking him so long?

Before Scarlett could think any worse thoughts about his whereabouts, the Doctor tiptoed his way towards her from behind a tree and poked her back. She jumped and gave him a hard slap across the face.

"What was that for?" he cried as he rubbed his face.

"I've been looking for you for hours… days! I had to hike miles just to get back to the T.A.R.D.I.S. I thought you'd come here and go pick me up back there!"

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down so that she could tell him what the problem was. However, the Doctor started to smile before Scarlett could explain anything.

"Now, you shouldn't be whining after everything I risked for you," he defended.

"Do you realize who all I had to sweet-talk in order for you to hold the little cute-faced, whiny munchkin version of future King Henry the Third of England? I thought you'd be absolutely peachy..."

"Yes!" Scarlett interrupted. "Peachy, fruit, whatever. That's what's wrong!"

The Doctor's smile subsided, and he cocked his eyebrow in a confused manner.

He put his arm around her shoulder and led her towards the tree that he hid behind. They both sat down, and the Doctor took in a deep breath with a wide grin on his face and eyes closed. While in mid-inhale with his head tilted upwards, he opened one eye to look at his companion. She wasn't paying attention to his relaxed mood.

"You're supposed to do the same thing I'm doing," he breathed inwards as he closed his eye again. Irritated, she slammed the open palm of her left hand across his chest, and he uncontrollably let out a large gust of air.

"What's your problem?" he shouted in an exasperated tone of voice. She obviously wasn't going to lighten up so he was getting annoyed for real this time. Scarlett thought that the Doctor didn't really care about her 'insignificant' problem or else he would act more concerned.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Never mind, let's just go."

She jumped up and stomped towards the T.A.R.D.I.S. She leaned her body against the machine in a pouty way as she waited for the Doctor to come and unlock the door. He slowly got up and shrugged off her attitude. Unlocking the door, she shoved in front of him to get inside first. Before he went inside, he took another deep breath of the green Cambridge field that homed newly built castles. Once he boarded his ship, the T.A.R.D.I.S. dematerialized from between a couple of stone pillars and left the year 1207 behind them.

"Where to next?" the Doctor asked while flying his machine.

Scarlett was leaning against a rail with her arms crossed and gave him a sour look.

"You're cross with me," the Doctor pointed out. "It was the medieval times. It seems that only you could come out angry. You should learn to stop and smell the roses once in a while. Whatever you did probably didn't matter to anyone but you. Did you kill someone?"

Scarlett shook her head 'no'.

"Did you hurt anyone or burn down a building?" he asked.

She shook her head again.

"Well then," the Doctor grinned as he changed back to his light-hearted mood. "I see you didn't die from the plague. All's well that ends well."

He played with the nobs on the consul until the T.A.R.D.I.S. clashed about through space and time. To Scarlett, the machine crashed unexpectedly but the Doctor already knew where he landed his machine. He started to pace around the consul while rubbing his hands together; that's what he always did when he was about to explain something. He began speaking rapidly and randomly so his thoughts seemed to wander as they came out of his mouth.

"Cambridge University was delightful… especially when there was no one around," the Doctor chuckled as he mumbled. "You certainly made it more beautiful by helping the local farmers and whatnot. I thought you'd maybe like to compare it with another… no, I lied... I got a telephone call informing me that they're in need of my assistance, mind you, most of the girls won't remember me now. I'm an old man but not any less plucky… Ursuline Academy! Thirteen colonies of the United States of America and all that jazz. It's an all girl's school, if you didn't guess that already. I'm not allowed in the building anymore for… reasons. I must say, I was quite the daredevil the first time I visited many, many years ago. But I digress… Scarlett, I need you to go inside for me and report back all and any strange activities… since I am not allow in there anymore. I'm not sure what we've got on our hands but I got the distress call. They should've thought that through when they called me… Don't worry, I've already got you set up as a new, incoming substitute teacher. That should keep you in the loop of all things happening around the school."

Scarlett gave the Doctor a blank stare and gaping mouth as he explained everything without taking a breath.

"Thanks for the warning," Scarlett pouted sarcastically.

"Sorry, I normally give you the freedom to choose where to go but I got the call! What's the point of a police box if I can't send help? Two colleges in a row… it's a bit boring but I'll make it up to you. We'll go to Hawaii after this. How about that?" the Doctor persuaded.

Scarlett crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she groaned. "Wait a minute…"

The Doctor had already turned around to face the consul when Scarlett rolled her eyes. He turned his face to look at her over his shoulder.

"If you went there years and years ago, then you shouldn't be recognized now! I don't see why you can't go yourself. You've told me about this freaky regeneration process of yours. Surely your face has changed since then."

It was the Doctor's turn to roll his eyes at her.

"Little Scarlett, if a school has my contact information then it's obvious that they know who I am and what I do. There's no time for stupid questions, and you shouldn't try to weasel your way out of a command when I give one. Now leave," the Doctor scolded in his intimidating Scottish accent.

She stormed out the front door without knowing what she'd see outside. The Doctor's sudden change in mood wasn't something she was going to argue about. Not because she is willing to follow commands… because he can get pretty nasty fairly quick. She aimlessly walked towards the front doors of a building that the T.A.R.D.I.S. was parked behind.

"Oh God, I screwed up! I really, really screwed up!" Scarlett cried as she slammed the T.A.R.D.I.S. doors behind her.

Inside the ship, the Doctor's head shot up from underneath the consul to see what was wrong.

"Calm down, my dear. Are the children alright?" he worriedly asked as he got up from the ground.

"Oh Jesus, I didn't mean to, but…" she breathed as she tried to calm down.

The Doctor raced up to her and grabbed her arms.

"The children?" he asked, annoyed that she didn't answer him the first time. She looked up into his eyes with a look of comfort.

"Oh, the children? They're fine," Scarlett reassured him.

The Doctor dropped his arms and let them slam into his sides.

"If the children of the elementary school are fine then what the bloody hell is wrong? You're pretending to be a substitute teacher, for heaven's sake. You can't freak out about every piece of gum that you find underneath your desk, you know."

Scarlett punched his arm, disgusted with his quick change of attitude; he was concerned one second then not taking her seriously the next.

"Those trees I planted at Cambridge!" she whined.

The Doctor took a moment to realize when and where she was talking about.

"Oh!" he grinned as he remembered. "I recall... The year 1207, wasn't it? We had a visit with the royal family until we were kicked out amongst the villeins, or at least, I think that's what they were… I remember that you were hired by some sokeman to plant on their land. How exactly did that turn out? I don't think I ever asked."

Scarlett grunted.

"Correct, you didn't. You were too busy wandering off and exploring the wonderful world of medieval architecture that you didn't remember to bring me with! Anyway, I was told to plant plum trees around the new Cambridge buildings."

"Plums! I love plums, but they're never in season everywhere I go," the Doctor smiled as he got distracted. "Little Jack Horner sat in a corner…"

"Good heavens, just shut up for five seconds," Scarlett snapped. "I had to go buy the tree seeds from a local market, but I screwed up. Well, I wasn't sure at the time, but I still panicked."

The Doctor put his hands on his hips.

"What could you have possibly done to cause yourself such worry?"

She let out a large sigh.

"I… I couldn't tell the difference between the plum seeds and the apple seeds," she blushed.

The Doctor let out a bellowing laugh as he turned around and leaned his back against the consul. He crossed his arms.

"Why does it matter? Plums, apples, who cares? Fruit trees are fruit trees; all of them are delicious."

Scarlett's blush of embarrassment turned into a blush of rage. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.

"Once those trees grew and produced fruit, God knows how many and where all those new seeds were planted throughout the country. Think about it," she snapped.

The Doctor kept a small grin as he paced around the consul. He genuinely thought about what she was trying to tell him. After pacing for a couple minutes, he stopped and turned to face her. He shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what she was getting at. Scarlett quickly turned around and stormed outside the T.A.R.D.I.S. After half a minute, she came back with a heavy textbook in her grasp. The book was slammed on top of the consul, and the Doctor cringed at the possible damage it may have caused. Scarlett furiously flipped through the pages until she came across a section about scientists.

"An elementary history textbook? I didn't know they even made these," the Doctor mumbled.

He was getting intrigued as to what she was showing him and leaned over her shoulder to take a look at the book. She pointed her finger to a portrait of Isaac Newton. It took less than five seconds for the Doctor to realize what Scarlett did and burst out laughing.

"An apple? Doctor, it's an apple! That… that is not what I learned in school. And…" Scarlett stuttered. "I d-didn't realize where he went to college until now."

She punched his arm, but he continued to bellow while rubbing his arm.

"It's supposed to be a plum! A plum fell on his head, and he was inspired to formulate a formula to discover gravity… or something like that," she continued.

"Oh, Scarlett," the Doctor laughed, "You now know what it's like to change history… unknowingly. There was more of a likelihood that there'd be more apple trees than plum trees come the future because of how many you and the farmers planted. I must admit that an apple sounds more ridiculous than a plum, but who am I to judge? That's what I always thought too."

The Doctor's smile only continued to stay just as obnoxious.

"Now everyone will be taught that Isaac Newton saw an apple fall from a tree, not a plum," he grinned.

Scarlett still had a worried look on her face but immediately began to chuckle when she realized the insignificance of the situation.

"I suppose I didn't do anything too drastic," she smiled. "I suppose that a few extra apple trees in a couple gardens won't hurt anything. I thought that I might've changed all of life as I know it or something."

"Oh, please…" the Doctor snide. "You didn't kill the man. You became the Johnny Chapman of England."

Scarlett gave him a confused look.

"Your reputation deceives you. I thought Americans were proud of their history, well, in your time period. No wonder you mess up primary history lessons… you don't even know what they are," the Doctor sneered.

Scarlett could tell that his sweet, light-heartened mood was turning sour in just a few mere seconds again. He picked up the textbook from the consul and threw it up in the air. It landed on the ground with a large puff of dust. It opened to the exact page that he wanted it to: American Legends. He pointed, with the toe of his shoe, at a sketching of Johnny Appleseed.

"Maybe you should know some of your own background before we go on. It may prevent you from doing something that you might regret," the Doctor warned.


	8. Episode 7

**Episode 7:**

**Tails: You Lose**

"You've got to be kidding me," Scarlett whined to the Doctor.

He looked down at her from the T.A.R.D.I.S. consul. She was lying belly-up on the glass floor with a tremendous amount of books and papers surrounding herself. Her hands held an open book above her face with her arms stretched out towards the ceiling. She let it fall painfully on her face as she whined.

"You can't be serious," she mumbled underneath the book.

The Doctor looked back to what he was doing at the consul.

"I'm sorry, dear. I didn't get that. What did you say?" he politely asked.

"You're impossible!" she shouted as she lifted the book from her face. "I spent the last two weeks studying the Earth's history and where do we go? Saturn! Why do I even waste my time? Last time I checked, Saturn is not Earth and Earth is not Saturn."

The Doctor kept a straight face as his friend complained on the ground beneath him. He pulled a lever that crashed his machine into a landing spot. The Doctor put on a fake smile and grabbed Scarlett's arm to pull her up onto her feet.

"Everything will eventually become a history lesson. Earth or not, you may learn something," he stated as he dragged her out the door.

Like every human does, she rolled her eyes at his lecture.

As the T.A.R.D.I.S. door flew open, a massive fog flowed into the machine and completely surrounded the two of them as they stood outside the door. There wasn't a thing to look at; everything in sight was painted grey with fog. Scarlett let out a few coughs as she turned to her friend.

"Make sure you keep her parked at this exact location this time; don't leave and go somewhere without me. Remember what happened when we landed on Lurma? I don't want to suffocate on this planet too. Especially, a dull, grey planet like this one. I don't look forward to getting lost and possibly dying on such an uninteresting rock," Scarlett scolded like an ignorant child.

The Doctor glared at her… knowing that he was never going live down that little mishap; she brings the subject up every time they visit an odd planet… especially, a gas giant.

"It's not my fault that you need my machine to communicate, breath, and do almost everything a human needs in order to live outside of the Earth's atmosphere. I wonder why that is… oh yes, it's because you're not built to live anywhere but Earth. I must say, you've come to depend on me quite a bit since we started traveling together. You wouldn't be able to be here without me. Don't you forget that," the Doctor cautioned as he broke eye contact with her.

Scarlett took a step away from him, since she knew that she'd rubbed him the wrong way. Even taking that one step back made his image fade a bit in the fog. She threw on a smile to try and change his attitude; he wasn't a joy to be around when he was in a serious mood. Unfortunately, she knew that she should've chosen her words more carefully and not complained so much. Over the past couple trips, she could tell that he was getting sick of her arrogance... real fast. Her hand moved around in the fog to try and find his hand. When she found it, she gripped it and shined.

"Let's venture further into this fog. Maybe it will clear up the further we go."

She had hoped that he noticed her smile and more upbeat voice, but, by the look of his face, he hadn't changed expressions. His hand did not grip hers back as she tugged him forward towards God knows where.

The two of them slowly shuffled through the blurred environment around them. The further they went, the more Scarlett began to panic. She no longer had the patience to try and brighten up just for her friend's sake.

"We should turn around," she murmured.

The Doctor kept his eyes straight on the unseen road ahead and said nothing.

"Seriously, I think we should head back before we can't find the T.A.R.D.I.S. Besides," she snobbishly pointed out, "there's nothing but a sea of grey fog. It's absolutely boring."

She started to shake and tug at his hand to see if he'd respond to her resurfaced attitude. He didn't say or do anything to show her his recognition of her useless attempts to get his attention. Scarlett let out a concerned, yet frustrated, sigh.

"If you're not coming with me, I'll just go back myself!"

The Doctor quickly grabbed her arm as she spun around to head back.

"It'd be unwise to wander off on your own. You can't do everything by yourself, you know."

Scarlett squinted her eyes at him while trying to make out his facial expression in the fog. She couldn't see him very well, but she knew he was stern.

"You better lighten up," she snapped.

"You better stop being so dumb-witted," he snapped back as he gripped her arm tighter.

She jumped at his sudden scornfulness. He let go of her arm and put his hands in his pant pockets. He began to wander off into the fog while his image began to fade once again. Scarlett ran to catch up with him, since she was now afraid to lose sight of him.

The two of them continued to walk for about an hour. Scarlett was beginning to feel like she was walking on a rain cloud. She made no further attempts to talk with the Doctor, since she knew he was having one of his dark episodes. For whatever reason, he had moments where he'd be lost in thought. Some random thing would set him off but Scarlett never knew what it was. However, he doesn't stay like that very long when they're off on an adventure. He'd always seem to find something to take his mind off of his troubling thoughts, whatever they may be. Scarlett discovered, a few trips ago, that he gets easily distracted. That's why she'd try to change any snobby or disrespectful attitude that she'd catch herself committing towards him. Unfortunately, a bright smile doesn't always lighten up his dark mood. She had seen him do the same thing for her whenever she was depressed about something, so she only assumed that the same would work for him; she could never have been more wrong.

The Doctor stopped walking for no apparent reason, and Scarlett almost ran right into him. She slunk around in front of him to look at his face. He was looking up at the sky, at least, Scarlett assumed that upwards was the sky; all directions looked the same to her. To Scarlett's pleasure, the Doctor formed an enormous grin on his face as he raised his left arm to the sky. He pointed his finger at something Scarlett could not see.

"Look," the Doctor smiled.

She stared for a few seconds before getting impatient.

"What? I don't see anything!"

"Wait for it. I just saw it."

"Saw what?" she asked in an annoyed tone of voice.

Just as the Doctor predicted, there was a little string of yellow light that flew up threw the sky in the far distance. Suddenly, it burst into glorious, golden sparkles that lit up their entire field of vision. The light was so blinding that Scarlett had to shield her eyes. However, the Doctor just kept staring at it with the same grin on his face. After about five seconds, a deafening blast of energy hit the two of them and knocked them both over. While on the ground, Scarlett sat up with a look of awe on her face.

"That was one hell of a firework," she shouted.

The Doctor chuckled.

"It certainly knocked the breath out of me. How about we go and find out where they're setting them off, shall we?"

The Doctor jumped up and stretched out his hand to help Scarlett up. She grabbed his offered hand and followed him. She trusted him to know where they were going… even though she knew that he had no idea.

Although they walked for about another hour, Scarlett was delighted that they've discovered something. Fireworks weren't exactly what she expected to see, but at least they were something other than nothing. The fog began to get lighter in thickness, and the two of them could see a black, straight line up in the sky now; it had no beginning or end.

"What's that?" Scarlett asked as she tugged on the Doctor's coat sleeve.

She pointed up towards the line.

"I assume those are Saturn's rings."

"Saturn's rings? They don't seem as impressive as I imagined them."

The Doctor laughed at her innocence.

"Nothing is like what they taught you in elementary school, my dear. We're looking at them from the planet's surface, not outer space."

Scarlett gave him an unamused look… knowing that he just made her study all those history books over the past few weeks because she didn't know a primary school story about a religious man that had a passion for vegetation.

The dark, grey fog began to turn a much lighter shade the more they walked on.

"Daylight, maybe?" Scarlett mumbled to herself.

"No, my dear, I don't think so."

"And what, Mr. Know-it-All, makes you so sure?"

"I don't see the sun."

"Of course, you don't see the sun. It'd be absolutely puny… considering how far away we are from it. This isn't Earth, as you know perfectly well," Scarlett pointed out.

The Doctor gave her an aggravated look but smiled. He was also unamused by her sarcastic answer.

"I'm aware of how small it'd be but that doesn't mean that this isn't daylight right now. Just because we are far away from the sun doesn't mean that the light doesn't shine all the way over here. I don't think you realize how massive the sun is. This planet is part of your solar system, you know. We revolve around the same sun…"

Scarlett reflected the same aggravated look to her friend. She knew that he was being very matter-of-factly.

Another string of golden light broke their tension as it shot through the sky again. They stopped giving each other the death stare and looked towards the light. It shot off uncomfortably close to them this time. They knew that they were exactly where they needed to be, but the fog was still not cleared enough for them to see anything useful. The firework exploded in the sky and knocked them onto the floor once again. The noise of the blast was even more deafening than the other one was. Staring up at the remaining sparks of the explosion, Scarlett noticed that one ball of light didn't fall from the sky.

"Hey, Doctor, I think I see a star! Is that what it is? I don't think it's small enough to be the sun, like you said," Scarlett shouted.

She couldn't even hear her own voice at this point. The explosion didn't die down in the atmosphere yet. All that the Doctor heard from her questions was the word 'star'.

"I don't think that's a star. It's too bright out. I think that might be Uranus," he stated.

"What?"

"I said, 'I think that might be Uranus'."

"Doctor, I can't hear you. What?"

"Uranus!" he yelled.

"How dare you speak his name," a deep, male voice bellowed from beyond the fog.

Scarlett and the Doctor shot up from the ground and frantically looked around. Curious, the Doctor shouted back to the unfamiliar voice.

"And why not?"

The outline of a tall, masculine figure began to appear in the fog. He was slowly approaching the two of them. The two of them were expecting a threatening-looking man, but when they could make his features out, his facial expression had a huge grin on his face. There was no sign of threat on his face, unlike the tone of his voice. And to Scarlett's surprise, he had no sign of clothing on his figure either.

"You certainly know how to be a buzzkill," the man smiled.

He stuck his right hand out to shake their hands.

"I'm the Doctor, and this is Scarlett."

"Gamori. Nice to meet you both," he replied as he looked Scarlett over with his eyes.

The Doctor noticed what he was doing and rolled his eyes.

"Well, I don't like having the reputation of being a buzzkill. That's not my style," the Doctor smiled. "Why exactly am I no fun?"

Gamori slammed his hand onto the Doctor's shoulder as a friendly gesture to pat his back and laughed.

"It's a party. How do you not know that it's today?"

The Doctor and Scarlett looked at each other in a confused manner.

"We're new to these parts," Scarlett answered.

Gamori examined the two of them. He stepped forward and stood in between them while locking his arms around theirs. The next thing they knew, the naked man was tugging them somewhere. Scarlett liked how cheerful he was but it was also extremely suspicious behavior.

"First off, you're doing your visit all wrong. The festivities are all over here. I don't think the firing ground for the fireworks is where you want to be for a good time. It's much too loud."

Scarlett tried to look over Gamori's broad shoulders to make eye contact with the Doctor. He noticed that she looked over at him, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I apologize if this is a stupid question but what party are we going to, exactly?" Scarlett asked.

"Saturnalia, of course!" Gamori laughed.

He dropped his arms from theirs and stared at her.

"You really don't know? You guys could really do for a brochure."

He grabbed Scarlett's hand and started to drag her along with him while leaving the Doctor behind. Rolling his eyes for the third time, he started to follow the two of them.

Gamori and Scarlett burst through the fog like there was a wall of clean air. Suddenly, she could finally see things clearly. It took her a couple seconds of blinking to adjust her eyes to the change, like waking up in the morning. It looked exactly like deep woods that would be found on Earth. There was a massive amount of trees, especially pines, along with other vegetation that completely covered the ground. The environment that surrounded them had the appearance of a crossover of a forest and a garden; even a stream flowed through the land. However, she could only see so far into the distance. The whole area looked like it was surrounded by a wall of fog, like they were hidden from the rest of the planet. Aside from the environment, there was a massive amount of other naked people walking around and doing random activities. Regardless of how random and odd this day has been for Scarlett so far, she couldn't help but get excited with a tour-guide like Gamori. His behavior may be suspicious but his attitude was genuine.

"Those people… underneath that tree over there. Are they… gambling?" Scarlett asked lightheartedly.

Gamori dragged her through a crowd of people and pointed out all the festivities that were going on. However, Scarlett stayed as close to her acquaintance as possible. She was feeling a bit uncomfortable rubbing against all the naked bodies. They, on the other hand, seemed to be used to it.

"If you'd like, I'll take you over to get your face painted! There's different types of games if you like gambling, as you said. So, yes, they are playing with dice. The fruit stand is delightful; they serve our own grown fruit however you like. If anything, this is a great time to mingle! Say, wait right here by this tree while I get you something to drink."

Gamori ran off into the crowd, leaving Scarlett behind to stand beneath a tree. The Doctor snuck up behind her, and she jumped a little bit.

"It's about time you caught up," Scarlett sighed. "Please tell me that you knew this was going on."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"Well, we've discovered a human nudist colony on Saturn who are throwing ankle bones as a form of gambling. I'd like you to tell me that all this is as weird as I'm perceiving it to be."

"Yes, it's rather unusual," the Doctor sighed as he bobbed his head.

As Scarlett and the Doctor leaned against the tree and observed everything that was happening around them, Gamori appeared from the crowd. He had a fruit smoothie that he handed over to Scarlett. She took a sip but immediately spit it out.

"Ugh, that's the worst strawberry smoothie I've ever tasted."

"You're too spoiled to the luxury of modern-day processed products," the Doctor stated.

Gamori brushed off Scarlett's insulting comment and ignored the one from the Doctor that made no sense to him.

"Maybe I should've asked you what you like. My… my one friend makes tea. That's all he ever drinks. He makes the best drinks; I'll vouch for him. Besides, I'd like you to meet him," Gamori smiled as he took Scarlett's hand again and ran off again into the crowd. The Doctor strolled along behind them.

Hand in hand, Scarlett and Gamori pushed through the crowd and made it to the stream that Scarlett noticed earlier. Gamori stopped walking and looked around.

"Wait here, I'm not completely sure where my friend is. I'm just going to look over in that direction." He pointed east. "Don't move."

He started to wander off but turned around to smile and wink at her before he disappeared out of her sight. His flirtatious attitude left her at a loss for words and contentedly awaited for his return.

The Doctor shoved his way out of the crowd to meet up with Scarlett, but when he made it out, he realized that she wasn't anywhere in sight. Unfortunately, he wasn't as close to them as he thought and must've gotten separated at some point. He ventured back into the sea of people and explored all the festivities. The clear, wooded area is only so many feet in diameter; she couldn't stay lost for very long.

Sitting on a boulder by the stream, Scarlett could hear the music of a flute emerging from the crowd of people around her. The high-frequency instrument whistled high above the noise of the crowd, so it wasn't hard for the human ear to miss. A short, but physically built, man jumped out of the crowd and strolled towards her. The flute fell from his lips the moment he spotted her. He had a thick head of curly hair and was probably the hairiest man that Scarlett has ever seen in her life. If she didn't know any better, from a distance, she could've sworn that he was a faun… but his very human physique led her to believe otherwise.

"Clothes? Clothes! Tell me, who wears clothes nowadays? No one! That's who. Dirty, useless clothes… they distract you from the more delicate features of a person, don't you think?" he seduced her as he batted his long eyelashes.

His voice had a higher tone than Gamori's.

"I'm afraid you'll never know if my features are attractive enough to be a distraction," Scarlett smirked.

The short man laughed at her comment. He bent down and pulled out a red flower from the ground and placed it in her hair.

"If they're as lovely as your face, I have no doubt in my mind that they are gorgeous."

Scarlett blushed.

"Paws off, Peter, I saw her first! Seducing Wendy, I see," Gamori jokingly shouted in the distance.

He appeared from the fog and strutted towards them.

"Who says you get the first stab at her?" the short man laughed.

The two of them approached one another and gave each other a hug. Scarlett just sat on the rock, not wanting to interrupt such a sweet but awkward moment. After their small greeting, they approached Scarlett by the boulder.

"Don't mind ol' Peter Pan here. A personality and reputation like his could make anyone believe that he has grown a pair of horns if they've never met the man. He can be intimidating, but he's not a threat to anyone. He wouldn't bother nobody," Gamori smiled as he patted his friend's back.

"You two look like the best of pals, am I correct in assuming so?" Scarlett asked.

"Correct," they both stated in unison.

"Unfortunately," Gamori spoke up, "he isn't the friend I ran off looking for. Peter, have you seen Chandra anywhere? If you spot him, please tell me. I need a drink to impress this young woman. Help an ol' friend out, will ya?"

Peter had half a grin on his face.

"I'll think about it. I might just get that drink for her myself since she doesn't necessarily belong to you and you alone," he smiled.

"You might as well come along with us while we look for him. I think my friend got lost in the crowd too," Scarlett breathed.

Gamori had to think about what she was saying.

"Oh, I remember!" he beamed, "You had some guy with you. I almost forgot about him. I suppose a pretty woman fully occupied my mind."

Scarlett kept her smile as she rolled her eyes at the two of them and headed towards the crowd. The two men followed alongside of her.

As the three of them maneuvered through the crowd, Peter played his flute and Gamori led the way. Scarlett kept ahold of Gamori's hand to make sure that she didn't get separated. Suddenly, Gamori pulled Scarlett to the left in order to avoid something. He placed her behind his back, but Scarlett slapped him across his back.

"What in the world are you doing?"

"I'm hiding you."

"What am I hiding from?"

"The press," Gamori whispered.

Scarlett had no idea what he was talking about and tried to push him out of her way. He held her behind his back.

"Peter, go distract her. Flirt with her or something."

"I wouldn't have to if this Scarlett woman would lose the clothes. She'd have no gossip to spread if there wasn't a mortal with clothes on," Peter snide.

"Who are you guys talking about?" Scarlett persisted.

"See that woman with the long, blonde hair?" Gamori answered. "That's Fama. She's the only journalist in these parts and, unfortunately, a gossiper. She likes to start trouble."

Peter let out a loud whistle from between his fingers and, out of nowhere, a goat emerged from the crowd. He gave the goat a firm kick in the side, and the goat frantically ran off.

"My partner in crime; He and I can sniff out a sexual act from miles away. I saw Adam and Eve making out under a tree on the outskirts of the festival after the apple-bobbing contest earlier. My pet and I will lead her to a delicious story that'll distract her for a while. You should have enough time for this red girl to find her friend, but I'd give up on looking for Chandra for the time being. You know him… he prefers the nighttime anyway. The antisocial bastard is probably hiding in a hole somewhere drinking tea and loathing life. You owe me one, Scarlett girl," Peter Pan winked.

He began to play his flute again as he skipped away after his goat.

"This seems like such a nice party; I didn't know there'd be any danger here," Scarlett mumbled.

"There isn't. Fama is a regular around here but you and your friend aren't. I don't want any gossip spreading about you two."

"And why do you care if people know that the Doctor and I wear clothes?"

"Word about your strange appearance might make it back to the king."

A look of shock came over Scarlett's face.

"A king? Why would a king care about two strangers arriving to a local festival? I didn't even know you people had a ruler."

"How can you not know? Your friend mentioned our past king's name aloud when I first met you."

Scarlett didn't know what to say. She thought about it for a second.

"Uranus?" she asked.

Gamori shushed her.

"You must not say his name aloud. It's disrespectful to the king. This festival is in honor of him, after all."

Scarlett was completely lost and couldn't follow anything her acquaintance was telling her.

"Wait… One question at a time. You have a king, I get that. Now, to repeat my past question, 'why would a king care about two strangers arriving to a local festival'?" Scarlett asked.

"Local festival? This isn't a community fling. This is where we live… all of us. We live here every single day. I've lived here all my life and so have the rest of these people…"

"Hold on a minute," Scarlett interrupted, "This place is less than a mile in diameter… the rest of the planet is fog. You're trying to tell me that you people, plus your king, live right here? You reside in a social crowd that lives off of garden vegetation."

"Yes, well, our queen resides here as well. We don't know what resides in the fog, if anything. You're kind of a new discovery. That's where you live, right? The fog? That is where I found you. You're definitely a target for gossip. The clothes kind of give it away."

Scarlett took a step back and tried to comprehend everything she was being told.

"Our king does not look kindly on foreign objects. I, on the other hand, find them fascinating. Maybe we should just find your Doctor friend, and you should go home. I didn't really think about the danger that Fama could put you two in until I saw her. I hoped you could've stayed and had a fun time with me," Gamori sniveled.

Scarlett wasn't much for empathy but she really liked this Gamori guy. She took a step towards him and grabbed his hand.

"I might not be able to stay here, but if I can convince the Doctor, maybe you can come with us and have some fun," she comforted.

"Well, well, well… are you flirting with me, Scarlett woman?"

"Ugh, no, you pervert," she laughed, "The two of us travel."

He smiled, even though he wasn't one hundred percent sure of what she meant by that.

Scarlett kept ahold of his hand, and they headed out into the crowd again.

They weaved through the crowd countless times but had no luck finding the Doctor. Knowing he wasn't there, they decided to walk alongside the edge of the fog. Scarlett took a few steps into the fog itself while Gamori stayed outside of it. They had their arms stretched out while Scarlett kept her left hand clutching to his right; she didn't want to get lost in the fog. The two of them continued to shout his name in hopes that he'll answer back. He never did.

After walking for about a half an hour, Scarlett heard a baby cry further out into the fog. She jumped back into the clearing in order to talk to Gamori.

"And I thought today couldn't possibly get any weirder," Scarlett breathed.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear that? The baby?"

"No," Gamori said, confused.

"Well, I heard a baby. You stay here and keep shouting for the Doctor. I won't get lost if I can hear your voice in the distance."

Scarlett headed back into the fog by herself.

"Good luck!" Gamori shouted as he panicked about her venture into the unknown part of his world.

Scarlett felt unsettled and a bit uncomfortable by the fact that Gamori wasn't surprised at Scarlett being surprised about hearing a baby cry in the fog. It's too random and disturbing of a happening for him to just say 'good luck' and let her wander off by herself.

Scarlett could hear Gamori's voice shout for her friend. At the same time, she could hear the screaming of the baby as well. Unfortunately, it didn't should like a normal, screaming child. It sounded much more heart-wrenching and scary. The further she went, the louder the screaming got. She picked up the pace as she got more concerned that the baby was in immediate trouble and not just abandoned to die or lost. Without being able to see a thing, Scarlett accidentally ran into someone who was also running.

"Please, he's killing my baby!" a female voice pleaded.

The seemingly invisible woman grabbed Scarlett's shoulder with one hand and started shaking her shoulder.

"Who? Who is doing it? Where is your baby?"

"My husband! Hurry!"

As Scarlett went to leave the woman, she brushed against her and accidently felt something that the woman was cradling in the other arm. If she didn't know any better, Scarlett could've sworn that it was a baby.

Scarlett quickly ran past the woman and frantically tried to see what's happening through the fog. A bellowing roar of thunder echoed through the distance as lightning flashed rapidly all around her. The screaming just kept getting louder and louder which freaked Scarlett out even more than the random weather.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing here. If I ever look back one day and think about if I ever had life regrets, I have a feeling this is going to be one of them.

Not only did she hear the sound of the baby in anguish and stormy weather, but she also could hear a squishing noise. There was also some grunting noises that sounded like they were right next to her. Instantly, she knew that it wasn't the sound of rain that goes along with a storm… because it wasn't raining. Hesitant, Scarlett stretched out to feel for something. Not feeling anything, she bent over to see if her vision would focus in on anything happening around her. Squinting her eyes, she could see the outline of a figure that was crouched over something on the ground. While she concentrated on making the image clear, her whole body eventually shot up in the air when she realized what she was witnessing. She ran as quickly as her feet could allow her to as she headed towards Gamori's voice. Within a few minutes, she burst suddenly into the clearing. She was in too much of a shock to realize that the Doctor was standing alongside of Gamori.

"He showed up a little while after you ventured out, but I just kept shouting for your reference…" Gamori stated.

"Cannibalism!" Scarlett breathlessly yelled.

She bent over to catch her breath and shook all over.

"Wha-?" the Doctor began to ask.

"Cannibalism!" Scarlett interrupted again, "He… he was ea-eating a baby! A live baby!"

She put her hands on her hips and threw her head back while she started pacing around the two men. She was obviously hyperventilating.

"Blood, guts… the real deal. Munch-y, crunch-y, gooey shit. Oh, God… Oh, Jesus…"

"Jesus? How do you know that opinionated jerk? I thought you were new around here," Gamori asked, not shocked at Scarlett's report.

Scarlett froze and gave him an exasperated stare.

"Are you not listening me at all? I saw a man eat a baby!" Scarlett screamed.

Gamori sat down on the ground as Scarlett and the Doctor observed his calm behavior.

"The royal family's business is their own. I recall the dreadful day that our king killed his own father and overthrew the throne. A sickle, mind you. Dreadful business. However, rumor has it that our past queen, Gaea, wanted her husband dead and had her son slay him. In my personal opinion, I don't blame her. She was always pregnant, poor woman. Her son, our current king, probably fears a revolt against him as well. I wouldn't want my head and body chopped into pieces either. It'd make sense that he'd want to destroy his children. I probably shouldn't say this aloud, but in my personal opinion, I don't understand why our king would marry his own sister and have children with her if he was always going to kill each and every one of them anyway… but who am I to judge our king."

"What the hell are you saying? Are you speaking English?" Scarlett freaked out.

"What's English?" Gamori politely asked.

The Doctor crossed his arms across his chest as he watched Scarlett's reactions to everything. He obviously wasn't freaking out like her either and she noticed.

"Doctor, are you hearing any of this?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, are you?" the Doctor pointed out.

She stared at him as if she couldn't believe what she was witnessing.

The Doctor put his head down towards his chest as if in deep thought.

"Continue with your story, Gamori. I'd like to know of the king's children…" the Doctor mumbled.

"I don't want to hear the rest of it! I've heard about all I can take and know all that I need to know. You're both crazy and your king, Gamori, sounds like an attention-whore," Scarlett spit out.

"Of course, he is. Only someone who thirsts for attention uses a sickle to kill his own father; more dramatic than it has to be, if you ask me. He throws half of his father into the deepest depths of the Underworld and the other half into the ocean. The daughter that was born out from the ocean is the exact definition of an attention-whore," the Doctor quickly mumbled aloud.

Gamori and Scarlett stared at him in astonishment.

"How… how do you know about Aphrodite? Have you two been lying to me this whole time? You couldn't possibly know any of these people unless you were from around here!" Gamori exclaimed.

Gamori's light-heartened attitude that Scarlett grew attached to was starting to disappear from his personality. The Doctor was turning into his mysterious self again. Scarlett could tell that the exciting atmosphere of the festival was beginning to fade and that their adventure was starting to take a turn for the worst. It was time to leave.

"Um, you two can have your little conflict, but I just saw a man eat an infant's intestines like they were spaghetti, so I'm heading home. Doctor, will you be joining me?" she asked in a sarcastic tone of voice as she headed towards the crowd.

The Doctor and Scarlett looked at Gamori before they left him behind. Scarlett should've known that something would happen to make her acquaintance change his mind about joining them; lying is a surefire way to lose someone's trust. By the sorrowful look on his face, it was obvious that he was upset and hurt. Gamori stayed sitting on the ground as the Doctor and Scarlett took each other's hands and pushed through the crowd.

Walking through the fog once again, the Doctor led Scarlett towards the T.A.R.D.I.S… at least… he thought. The Doctor could tell that Scarlett was depressed about leaving her new friend, but he could still feel the shakiness in her hand from the shock. It is for the best that they left.

"Explanation time," Scarlett whispered.

The Doctor smiled.

"First things first, they weren't humans."

Scarlett let go of the Doctor's hand and plopped down onto the ground.

"Ugh, this is going to take forever for me to understand. I thought they were! I want to cry," Scarlett pouted as she rubbed her forehead.

The Doctor sat down, legs crossed, right in front of her. He moved close enough to her that she could see most of him, even though he was a little blurry.

"Well, they were human… but they weren't. I wasn't too sure until I got separated from you. I moseyed out into the fog to explore by myself… now, don't give me that look. I'm here, aren't I? Anyway, I came across a cave that homed a baby boy. Now, if you did a good job studying the past couple weeks, you should know who he is. It clicked in my mind what was going on when he told me. Saturnalia… A festival that celebrates Saturn, obviously. Not the planet, the god: the Greek god of agriculture. It was celebrated during the time period in which that god was alive: the Golden Age."

Scarlett was no longer as confused as she had been, since she started to piece the puzzle together.

"Hold on," she interrupted, "The Golden Age? You're trying to tell me that that time period actually existed? Mythology, that's all it is!"

"Perhaps it is, my dear, but you seem to neglect that fact that we are on a different planet. It might not have literally occurred on Earth but it might have on Saturn."

Scarlett shook her head as she questioned his seemingly incorrect explanation.

"I don't think so. They were all very… human. The customs of the party, the fireworks, gambling, smoothies, didn't come from the minds of gods."

"You've got a point but you cannot deny the presence of the gods. Religious figures were everywhere."

"Were they? I didn't think about it until the end of our visit when Gamori started making no sense."

Scarlett could hear the Doctor chuckle.

"Recall all the names you've heard today. Tell me," the Doctor demanded.

"Well, we met Gamori first. Then I met his friend, Peter Pan. He liked to flirt a lot… and he had a pet goat. I must say, he was quite the character. Gamori mentioned finding someone else named Chandra, I think. Then we hid from a woman named Fama who was a reporter or journalist or something… Oh!" Scarlett recalled, "Peter said that he saw Adam and Eve! I know who they are."

Scarlett could see the fog shifting around as the Doctor chuckled even louder.

"What's so funny?"

"Peter Pan? That's cute."

"I know. It's an adorable nickname," Scarlett smiled.

"No, no," the Doctor stopped her. "That's no what's funny. I think you were flirting with the Greek god of sexuality himself. His name isn't Peter, but it is Pan."

"The hooved god with the horns? Th-that's disgusting…" Scarlett groaned.

"Chandra… I'm not sure if you met him or not, but I think he's the Hindu god of… the moon? If memory serves me right, I do believe that's who he is."

"Pan did say that he is a bit of a hermit."

"And Fama… Roman god of gossip, by the sound of it. It's a good thing you had Gamori looking after you while I was away. She has a nasty reputation about her… from what I've read anyway."

"Gamori! Who's he, Doctor? Now you've got me extremely curious to know what immortal I befriended so quickly." Scarlett gleamed.

The Doctor hesitated and sat in silence for a minute.

"I… I don't think I've ever heard of him. He must not have left much of a mark on history or anything."

Scarlett slapped her hands on her knees in a mopey way.

"Drat… just my luck."

The Doctor slowly rose from the ground and approached his friend. He stuck his hand out to help her up.

"Let's try and find out way back to the T.A.R.D.I.S. I have a theory I want to check out. I'm not positive of what I've seen today, and I really don't like not knowing."

The two of them stretched their arms out around them and felt around for the blue box.

"It's a good thing that we left when we did." Scarlett stated as they wandered.

"And why is that?" the Doctor replied.

"Because if that was baby Zeus in the cave then some serious shit is about to go down soon."

The Doctor chuckled and felt slightly proud of her self-education from the past couple weeks.

They walked through the thickening greyness for three hours. It was taking much longer than Scarlett had ever hoped. The Doctor wasn't too pleased either; not because of the time but because of Scarlett's never-ending complaining.

"I found her!" the Doctor yelled.

"Really?" Scarlett exclaimed.

"No, I just really want you to shut up."

Scarlett gave him an irritated look that he was lucky enough to not be able to see.

"If I have to walk for five more minutes, I'm going to scream."

The Doctor ignored her comment as well as all the other ones for the past couple hours. Scarlett dragged her feet and slouched behind the Doctor as she held onto the back of his coat. He had both his hands stretched out as he felt around for his precious machine. Unexpectedly, Scarlett tripped on something and fell to the ground. The Doctor turned around to help her up, thinking that she fell from tripping over her own two feet. Being the pessimistic and grumpy person she is at the moment, she didn't bother to try and get up.

"I'll just stay here and rot," she grumbled into the ground.

The Doctor sighed and bent over to feel the ground for her hand. Instead, he felt a sharp edge of wood.

"You found her, Scarlett. Nice teamwork!"

Scarlett stayed on the ground until she heard the T.A.R.D.I.S. door squeak open. The Doctor went inside and Scarlett could see the light beam out through the fog. She immediately jumped up and ran inside… only to shut the door behind her and fall flat on her face again. This time, it was on purpose.

"I'm never leaving from this spot again," she mumbled as she hugged the ground.

The Doctor smiled at his friend and read the data, from the consul, of their current location. He did his procedure and the machine flew off to another location. The Doctor sped-walked towards the doors and stepped over Scarlett to get to them. She heard the doors squeak open again but she knew that they hadn't landed. The T.A.R.D.I.S. didn't crash land like she always does. Scarlett rose from the ground and walked over to where the Doctor stood. She leaned against him as he stood in front of the opened doors.

"Whatcha' looking at?" she light-heartedly asked.

"Your theory was right, Scarlett," the Doctor sighed.

She could tell he wasn't in such a happy mood and toned down her attitude.

"I had a theory?"

"What do you see out there?"

"Nothing."

"That's where Earth used to be."

Scarlett didn't know what to say.

"We landed on Saturn in the year 4497. We're in the same year this very second, I just moved us off of the planet."

"How does that relate to anything?"

"Human customs."

Once the Doctor said that, Scarlett remembered what her theory was.

"I'm glad you pieced it together because my thought-process wasn't quite complete. Nothing made sense… still… doesn't make sense. I just mumbled any thought that came to mind."

The Doctor put his arm around Scarlett's shoulders as he took a deep breath and smiled.

"Humans. You're marvelous, you know that? Marvelous… but not perfect. Nothing's perfect. There's no such thing as perfect. I mean, who has the right to say if something isn't good enough?"

Scarlett didn't say anything as she stared at his bright facial expression.

The glimmer of his eyes were a reflection of the stars that he has deemed to call his family. The natural sparkle of his eyes faded centuries before she ever met him. Scarlett could see the unrevealing eyes of this man the day she saw him. The eyes of an old man are worn out, but he didn't always act the way he looked. He lightened up on their adventures only to recoil back into his wise, old man demeanor. Nevertheless, when he revealed himself bit by bit, Scarlett only overacted to get his attention. Her behavior and personality is always cleverly performed to be obnoxious for that reason: it's obnoxious… attention-grabbing. That's all that she wanted of his. If she obtained that, then she could get to know him… the real him. Unbeknownst to Scarlett, her actions will never succeed. His attention was lost in his own mind, and, as fate would have it, it has never found its way back; especially when it has no intention of getting found.

"You're never just satisfied with what you have, are you?" the Doctor reminisced. "I'm not quite sure why I love you all so much. Honestly, you're a mix of everything that I idolize and everything that I loathe passionately. I guess I'm just curious as to how you function… how you think."

The Doctor's smile faded. He let his arm fall from Scarlett's shoulder, and he got down onto the T.A.R.D.I.S. floor. His legs dangled off the edge, and Scarlett imitated his actions. Before he began, he straightened his back and took a deep breath. His eyes and attention were on the stars.

"We'll never know all the answers. You'd think that'd be the most terrifying thought in all of creation. How long does infinity feel like? What or who made everything? What or who made what or who?" the Doctor grinned. "Don't get your head in a tizzy, my dear. It's just a thought. Those thoughts are what make you all desperate to find answers. At one time of my life, I screamed at you and questioned your reason for such exploration. 'You'll never find all the answers! There's no point. Time is precious. Don't waste it,' I'd said. But then I realized… you're exactly like me. You… you know of how infinite and mysterious the universe is. The feeling of us never losing the motivation to find all the impossible answers is… bittersweet. The questions will never end so why should the answers? I'm quite proud of you, in that respect… Moving from the Earth and landing on the moon. Once you realized you could do that, the sky was the limit. You managed to sustain human life on other planets and, eventually, learned to adapt with other species. But like I said before, you're not perfect…"

The Doctor stopped rambling for a minute. Scarlett decided to hold her tongue until he was completely done explaining himself. She desperately wanted to know how any of this had to do with Saturn, but she was more frantic to know how the Doctor ticks. He only rants on these rare occasions.

"You can't go a few centuries without having a civil war amongst yourselves, so how can I expect you to not have a war against a different race? You failed the first time around, you know? Great advancements were made towards expanding the human race amongst the stars… You were so pumped for an easy way out. You destroyed the planet you lived on and swept it under the carpet when you knew you'd have an escape pod… Only so many of you made it to New New Earth. Even those humans weren't really humans but that's a different story. You killed yourselves the first time, but you got better as time went on. You learned to take care of yourselves better by learning from your past mistakes. However… I digress. You're greedy; you're ignorant to the pleasures that existence gave you. Living amongst the stars, intermingling with other species, living life itself… I'm not too sure where you went wrong, but your primitive selves came back to haunt you." He paused and waited for Scarlett to answer him, even though she didn't know that she was supposed to. "Saturn, Scarlett. Saturn!" he yelled while actually making eye contact with her for the first time.

Scarlett blinked her eyes a couple times until she realized that he was directly speaking to her and her alone.

"A few human customs and stories remained over time but majority of it was gone with time. History was forgotten so it was cursed to repeat itself."

"History?" Scarlett questioned. "How was Saturn history?"

"It's the history of the Earth. It's just on Saturn this time around because that's the planet some humans reside on. Like I said, you intermixed with other races and now live among the universe. Some chose to remember the stories and fables of the past while others chose to only focus on the future. You can probably guess which one the residences of Saturn picked."

"All right, I get that, but how does that have to do with history repeating itself? What history?"

"The Golden Age. I'm afraid it was a little more sugar-coated in the stories but that was the real deal today."

Scarlett was trying to soak in all that he was saying.

"The Golden Age isn't a myth? It really, really happened?"

"Yes, my dear. Mankind is repeating itself. The Golden Age is the first of the five ages of man... or humanity, to be less sexist. When gods and humans roamed the planet together… However, those people weren't gods. Not really. They became gods through the stories from the days of old. They were just human-hybrids who were remembered as gods. You just witnessed the beginning of human-based religion for the new generation of humans."

"Ah, slow down a minute… too much information at once. Correct me if I'm wrong. First, the human race managed to live on other planets and breed with the other species while trying live in harmony with them. Gross, by the way. They spread to different planets throughout the universe with different species. Some forgot the past while others did not, so the ones that forgot repeated it. Repeating the human race involves the five stages of man. Since the human-hybrids on Saturn are considered the first inhabitants of the planet, their stories are remembered throughout time as the first humans and gods… but… they get jumbled up over the centuries. From ear to ear, stories don't always stay true to their original form. All religions are just stories of humans, well, human-hybrids… my head hurts, Doctor."

"Don't let it hurt just yet," the Doctor pleaded. "I have one last kicker that you'll love."

The Doctor had a grin on his face as he explained all that he has observed from the day.

"Just to make it perfectly clear, you are a human-hybrid. A hybrid that has primitive human characteristics about you, as the whole human race does. You weren't the first, you know. I've seen this process happen over and over again. Did you get that? Do you understand?" The Doctor waited for her response, but she didn't make any sign or signal that she understood. She blankly stared at him.

"Good. Now, as I already told you, human-hybrids inhabit all sorts of planets. Some do not repeat the past and become more and more advanced over time. Although they'll never be able to obtain the true Timelord technology that enables time-travel, these human-hybrids do have some, petty tricks for weak time-travel… like the vortex manipulator. That's a different story in and of itself but I digress again. No other species of aliens like the planet Earth in any way, shape, or form; most of them hate your guts. Do you know who would like to re-observe the past of Earth so they can learn from it?"

"Humans! The human-hybrids! Wait…" Scarlett hesitated while turning pale, "Aliens are… humans?"

"Human-hybrids," the Doctor corrected. "You. You are also a human-hybrid. So yes, you… But, the 'alien' hybrids don't exactly look like you since they're more intermixed. They improved; they moved on from the stages of men and didn't get stuck in the Iron Age, like your humans on Earth did… human-hybrids… whatever. Humans will be forever adapting and breeding with other species." The Doctor grinned even wider as he thought for a moment. "I believe that I've just defined evolution as well."

"Excuse me while I let my mind collapse in on itself while I get some rest. Let's just go to Hawaii next time… like we planned," Scarlett whispered as she wobbled while trying to get up.

She clung onto the Doctor's shoulder for support. While slugging towards the hallway to reach her bedroom, the Doctor let his straight back slouch and turned his head to look at his sick friend. She meandered towards her bed for a good night's rest filled with comfort and dreams. While reminiscing, he chuckled as he smirked at her reaction. Like stargazing, Scarlett has only seen mere freckles of infinity. The Doctor has seen the beginning of infinity but hasn't traveled long enough to see an end yet. Scarlett knows that the Doctor has seen more than her; there's no denying that fact. It only seems logical to assume that he'd be searching for an end… to go as far as he can until there's nothing left to live for. However, Scarlett doesn't believe that to be true in his case. She knows that he isn't traveling to find the end of infinity. She believes that he is afraid of an end and is running in the opposite direction.


	9. Episode 8

**Episode 8:**

**Heads: I Win**

Scarlett rubbed the sleepers out of her eyes as she sluggishly descended down the stairs of the T.A.R.D.I.S. The Doctor stood in his usual spot by the consul as he stared into a monitor screen. The sound of the dragging feet caught his attention, and he immediately broke his focus with the screen as he shut it off as quickly as possible. Hoping she didn't see what he was looking at, the Doctor tried to quickly start a random, off-topic conversation.

"What are you all dressed up for? Not me, I hope," the Doctor cheerfully asked.

Scarlett paused on the last step of the stairwell and look down at her outfit.

"I like suits. You know this," she spoke rather blandly and quickly.

"You feeling alright?" the Doctor asked. "You seem more off than usual."

"You know, I'm not really in the greatest mood."

The Doctor's original, fake grin faded as he observed Scarlett's depression. Not feeling bad for her, he put his hands in his coat pockets as he thought of something more genuine to say.

"You mustn't feel guilty or regretful when you're around me," the Doctor spoke aloud. "We can't save everyone. People's feelings get hurt. People die. People are left alone. If you stop to think about someone you miss, you'll never look forward to your next adventure. You have to just let things, and people, go."

"You don't instruct me how to feel," Scarlett coldly snapped. "I don't need to hear your sob-stories."

"You think I'm telling you this because I want you to sympathize me? Please," the Doctor sneered, "you're the last person I need pity from. This is not an experienced, old man giving you advice. This is an order."

Scarlett shamefully, yet still pouting, put her head down to stare at her feet while the Doctor scolded her.

"Do you even realize why I bring people like you onto this ship?" the Doctor disciplined as he took small steps to approach her. "I don't look for pity. I look for praise. If you want to stay on this ship with me, you have to be excited. You can't get beaten down like I am. You can't let depression, regret, and guilt consume you like I did. I have nothing to look forward to. But you do," he roared as he got up in her face. "And if you let someone as naïve as that Saturn boy devour your conscience because you upset him - then you're absolutely pathetic."

The Doctor gave her no choice but to make eye contact with him. The misty eyes of his companion was not filled with tears of depression but with tears of hate. The Doctor did not perceive her eyes as anger but rather of fear. Assuming he had convinced her of his demand, he began to back away and turn his back to her. With the Doctor not facing her, Scarlett felt around her blazer's pockets for something. She felt around until she found a pen. Clutching the utensil in her fist, she threw her arm back and flung the pen as hard as she could at her friend. Good aim allowed the pen to clang against the back of the Doctor's head. Rubbing his noggin the instant it hit its target, he unwillingly blurt out a moan of agony. However, he did not turn back around to face his companion as he hear her carry on behind him.

"Piss off!" Scarlett howled.

Not facing her, the Doctor continued walking toward his consul as if he was ignoring her. However, Scarlett stayed standing on the step as she waited for some kind of response. The Doctor stayed perfectly calm and cold as he remained staring at his consul.

"We're going to go somewhere. You're going to be excited. You're going to feel better. And you're going to like it," he stated.

"And if I don't?"

The Doctor didn't say a word as he began to punch in his destination into the consul. To his surprise, the machine didn't take off when he pulled the main lever. The lights in the T.A.R.D.I.S.'s interior began flashing rapidly and unexpectedly. The Doctor frantically began to push buttons, pull levers, and click on random switches. Obviously confused and hysterical, he attempted to control his machine as professionally as possible. The entire machine began to rattle and shake while the consul exploded this place and that. The seizure-like lights and unbearable noises didn't startle Scarlett in the slightest. Not saying a word, she subtly clung onto a railing since crash landings were such a common procedure at this point. Knowing they were able to land somewhere the Doctor didn't intend, Scarlett didn't bother to question what's happening. Instead, she waited for the temperamental machine to land by herself, despite the Doctor's attempts to calm her down. Scarlett stared at her friend while he worried about his T.A.R.D.I.S. Surprise mechanical difficulties was such a routine thing. No matter how many times the machine acts up, the Doctor doesn't worry any less each time a crisis arises. Scarlett couldn't help but notice his behavior. It was like witnessing a captain go down with his ship; saving any passengers isn't a priority.

After about five minutes of the Doctor running around the consul, the T.A.R.D.I.S. finally stopped kicking up a fuss. Scarlett loosened her grip on the railing and stood up properly. The Doctor made eye contact with her for the first time since the mishap had begun.

"I've given up," Scarlett coldly stated.

"Excuse me?"

"I've given up asking what's happening. Or better yet – what did happen."

"Well, that's good to hear," the Doctor sighed, "because I haven't the slightly clue anyhow."

Luckily, the T.A.R.D.I.S.'s misbehavior caused the tension to slightly cease between the two of them. The Doctor switched his monitor back on to read the coordinates and environmental status. However, before he had a chance to read the information aloud, Scarlett already had her hands on the doors' handles. Looking up and noticing what she was about to do, the Doctor quickly spat out:

"Wait! It's dangerous out there. Dreadful conditions! You'll die in an instant if you open that door."

Irritated, Scarlett let go of the handles and leaned her upper body on the doors while facing him.

"Then what do you propose we do?" she asked impatiently.

The Doctor quickly ran down another flight of stairs which led to the storage units underneath the T.A.R.D.I.S floor. Clashes and banging noises could be heard from below as the Doctor ravaged through his belongings. In under a minute, the Doctor came running back up the steps with space gear in hand; there were two helmets under each armpit and two suits draped off his arms. While approaching Scarlett, he outstretched his hand to give her an orange space suit. Still standing by the door, she snatched the outfit from his grip and grabbed a helmet from his underarm. She held the body suit in front of her to examine it.

"This is horrific. I can't possibly where this. It's much too ugly," she complained.

"Would you rather be dead?"

Scarlett snarled at his rhetorical question and proceeded to unzip the suit. The Doctor did the same as he stepped inside his own suit. Having done this before, he had no problem getting into his Santuary Base 6 space suit. Scarlett, however, struggled and tripped all over herself just to get the suit up and around her body. The Doctor couldn't help but crack a smile. Not noticing his amusement, Scarlett stared at the helmet that she placed on the ground while she got into her suit. She hesitated picking it up.

"It's transparent!" she whined.

"So? What's that got to do with anything?"

"It looks like a motorcycle helmet. It's so tight-fitting. People will be able to see my squished, messy hair."

"Good Lord, Scarlett, no one cares about what your hair looks like. Besides, there can't be any life on this planet. It's much too radioactive. If you need a suit just to walk around then there's most definitely no one here," the Doctor pointed out.

With both of them fully suited up, the Doctor shoved in front of Scarlett so that he would be the first one out the door. He paused to open the door as he remembered the pain of the pen hitting the back of his head. Looking straight ahead at the door, he coldly spoke to Scarlett while not making any form of eye contact:

"I suggest you keep your temper under control while you're out here. You never know who you're going to upset."

Scarlett didn't have anything to say. She stood right beside the Doctor as he slowly opened the left door. A humongous breeze of freezing, cold air blew into the T.A.R.D.I.S. Although they were protected by their suits, they still couldn't help but shiver as their helmets froze up around their heads. Neither of them wanted to take a step outside, so Scarlett folded her arms in order to keep warm as she waited for her friend to shut the door. It had become fairly obvious that they weren't going anywhere. The Doctor didn't immediately shut the door due to his immense curiosity. He squinted his eyes in his helmet as he quickly tried to scan the outside area. The land was completely white and absolutely blinding. There was no sign of creature nor plant life anywhere. The weather was doing nothing and there wasn't a thing in the grey sky. Nothing detecting anything of interest, the Doctor attempted to shut the door. However, he was having difficulty against the wind so Scarlett pushed on the door as well. Once they both managed to get it shut, they both took their helmets off and looked at each other.

"Well, so much for a new adventure," Scarlett moaned. "It's the bloody tundra out there."

"Megara!" he proclaimed.

"What?"

"It's not Russia. It's Megara. It's a planet," he corrected as the two of them slid down the doors and plopped themselves onto the floor to sit.

"Megara? I've never heard of that one before."

"Of course you haven't. It's not in your solar system."

"Who would give it such a feminine name?"

"No one of your species, I'm sure. You knew it by another name... or a label. It's the species in this solar system that gave it its name," the Doctor explained.

"We know of this planet? Are you serious?"

"Of course not. It was discovered beyond your time, my dear."

"Then what did we call it? A different Roman name?"

"Nah, you people would've known it as TrES-3b," the Doctor confirmed. "You people are so lazy taking the time to name your own planets but not the homes of others. It's just a label to you. Disgraceful, really."

"Well which solar system is this? How could the human race possibly know of its existence?"

"Scarlett, my dear, earth made many more technological advances at the turn of the 21th century. I'm afraid you'd be an old woman by the time this discovery came about."

Scarlett gave a look of disgust.

"It's called Hercules, by the way… the solar system. You name the system but not the planets. How odd," the Doctor pondered as his voice trailed off. "Well, it only makes sense then that the aliens would call it Megara."

"What? Why?"

"Megara was Hercules wife, according to the myth. Or in our case, according to history."

Scarlett paused as she suddenly got flashbacks of Saturnalia.

"That's very sweet – to name a planet after his lover," Scarlett stated.

"Not sweet… accurate."

Scarlett lifted her eyebrow in a confused manner.

"Hercules kills his wife and children. The planets in this system orbit much too quickly. The chance of meteors destroying them is very great. It's a rather suiting name."

"Good God, Doctor, that's horrible! Meteors?"

"It's getting further and further away from its orbit. A meteor? It's highly possibly for something to scratch the surface. It's only a matter of time for the planet to go through so much orbital decay before something more deadly smacks right into the planet's surface and wipes off its entire population."

"Are you saying that meteors probably scratch the surface a lot? That would explain the vacant look of this place," Scarlett observed.

"I have no doubt in my mind that that's what was – or is – happening."

"You don't think they've wiped out the entire population already, do you? I don't see a single living soul here!"

"Oh please, Ms. Bathurst, don't jump to such ludicrous conclusions. Don't jump the gun."

Scarlett put her hands on her hips in a disgruntled manner.

"Don't give me that look. It's not my fault you're ignorant," the Doctor chastised.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Scarlett protested.

"How many people do you see living in the middle of Russia?"

"Hardly anyone," Scarlett stated.

"Precisely. We only just got out of the T.A.R.D.I.S. Do you really think there's life on every square inch of planet? Of course not. If we think it's much too cold here then they much feel the same! Come on, we'll head back inside and move over a couple hundred miles."

The Doctor shoved his hands into his suit pockets and got up to start walking straight toward the consul. Scarlett hesitated before she started stomping, irritably, behind him as she got up too.

"Why in the world didn't we do that back on Saturn? By Jove, that would've been so much easier!" she complained in a child's whiney tone of voice.

Behaving properly, the T.A.R.D.I.S. shifted to another part of the seemingly abandoned planet. Scarlett almost opened her mouth to suggest leaving now that his machine worked, but she couldn't help but be slightly curious of what might actually be on this planet. The both of them quickly put both their helmets back on as they giddily skipped towards the doors in excitement. Despite the disagreements between the two of them, they were undeniably similar.

Before the Doctor managed to open the door, a loud 'bang' echoed throughout the control room. The two of them paused and looked around the inside of the T.A.R.D.I.S. Not sure of what it was, the Doctor went to open the door again. Another lurid 'bam' vibrated off the walls.

"Is that coming from in here?" Scarlett asked.

"I don't think so. It must be outside."

Scarlett and the Doctor finally opened the door but didn't brace themselves for another gust of cold wind. Not expecting the entire planet to be this cold, they both started shivering again. Scarlett, waiting for the Doctor to shut the door again, stood with her arms crossed in order to try and stay warm. The Doctor, however, took a step outside.

"Are you crazy? It's just as cold as before! There's nothing to look at! Let's go somewhere else!" Scarlett yelled over the blustery and whistling wind.

"I need to know what's making that noise!" the Doctor shouted back.

"It must be the wind! You know, like rattling windows in a storm!" Scarlett concluded.

"I know my own ship! I think I know what makes what noise!"

The Doctor shut the door as he completely stepped outside the T.A.R.D.I.S. Scarlett stayed inside while her friend ventured around the perimeter of the time machine. Outside, the Doctor circled his machine in order to see what was causing the random noises. He kept his eyes on the walls of his ship as he went around. Standing behind his ship, he paused to wonder for a moment. However, he heard what sounded like charging behind him and he spun around. Seeing a pair of, what seemed like, antlers, the Doctor instinctively jumped out of the way. An enormous creature rammed its pair of horns into the side of the T.A.R.D.I.S., trying to tip it over. Nevertheless, this third charge was so powerful that the white, furry creature's horns got stuck in the wood of the exterior. A bellowing roar could be heard all around as it cried out. Shock now leaving him, the Doctor put his hands behind his back and sassily approached the beast.

"That's what you get for trying to destroy my T.A.R.D.I.S. It didn't scare you now did it?" the Doctor pitifully asked, referring to his ship and not the creature, as he stroked one of his machine's panels.

"It hurts quite a bit, if you don't mind helping…" the creature mumbled with its face stuck facing down at the ground.

"Oh, so the savage speaks?" the Doctor menacingly teased.

Scarlett turned around the corner of the T.A.R.D.I.S. as she heard the bellowing moan and third ram from inside the ship. She jumped from surprise as she saw the creature that was stuck. Not even thinking about it, Scarlett immediately grabbed its hips and helped yank it loose. The Doctor merely stood back and watch her, refusing to help. The beast managed to detach itself from the wood and stood up. Towering over both Scarlett and the Doctor, Scarlett assumed that it was probably over seven feet tall. This creature had the anatomy of a polar bear but the horns of an eland. Much skinny than the average, earth bear, these things stood on their hind legs as if they had the physiology of humans. Two of them only assumed that they had the body of a bear, since they were draped in monk-like robes.

"Thank you, ma'am," the beast spoke.

"It talks!" Scarlett exclaims.

"Hm, yes, fascinating," the Doctor mindlessly mumbled, uninterested. "Look here, I don't appreciate you ramming your thick skull into my T.A.R.D.I.S. Something new and exciting is delivered to your doorstep and you destroy it? How very naïve…"

"I got scared," the creature pompously admitted. "I was only doing my duty by protecting my people."

"I told you there would be people," the Doctor whispered to Scarlett.

"Shut up," she mumbled back.

"The cold is getting much too strong. We cannot stay up here much longer. Where is your home?" the beast asked in a bold, brawly voice.

"We have none," the Doctor quickly stated before Scarlett had the chance to.

"Then by all means, come! Come!" the creature beckoned as he began walking away.

The two of them walked behind this newly, found bear hybrid as they ventured to some unknown location.

"I don't speak bear. And last time I checked, bears don't speak English," Scarlett pointed out in a whisper.

"The T.A.R.D.I.S. can translate any language. What you hear is what the machine is perceiving for you. It allows your tongue to translate into the unknown language without you knowing it. It may sound like he's speaking English but you're actually speaking bear. Besides, how many bears do you see fully clothed and with deer antlers?" the Doctor sarcastically answered.

"Why wouldn't you tell him about the T.A.R.D.I.S.? It's perfectly warm in there," Scarlett whispered as quietly as she could over the wind.

"What is this? A million questions? Because you never know who else needs shelter. I don't give free rides," the Doctor quietly declared.

"That's not it. You're just curious!"

"You bet I am," the Doctor grinned.

The three of them appeared to be wandering through the middle of nowhere. After a merely five minutes of walking, the bear-like creature turned around to face the two of them. He gestured his paws to a hole in the ground. The size of the bear and the size of the hole looked around the same. As he turned back around to go climb down into it first, the two of them realized that it was just barely the right size hole to fit the bear into. No one of any larger size could go in. The Doctor climbed down following the creature then Scarlett tagged along. The first foot down looked completely pitch black but light became apparent the more they went down. Only about fifteen feet underground was the home of this bear-like creature and his family. A small, square dirt room was the home of these creatures. A bonfire was in the center of the floor but they weren't using wood for the burning. Remains of other beasts shriveled underneath the flames. Luckily for the Doctor and Scarlett, they couldn't smell the atmosphere with their helmets on. A single hole was in the low-hanging ceiling which served as an air-vent for the smoke and smell. Filing cabinets and storage area filled up one wall. The others were empty. One young and small bear-hybrid stood in the corner while clinging onto its mother's robes. Assuming the creature that was hurting the T.A.R.D.I.S. is the father, the Doctor noticed that the little bear had its father's horns. The mother appeared to be a white wolf-hybrid. Another elderly wolf creature laid on the ground and stared at its new company. Scarlett clung onto the Doctor, realizing that they were in a tiny room, outnumbered by animals she'd see at a zoo. The creature that invited them into his house noticed that Scarlett looked uneasy and chuckled.

"Don't be shy," the beast laughed. "We don't bite."

Staring at the bonfire, Scarlett highly doubted him. The creature, however, noticed what she was looking at.

"How else are we to keep warm?" he calmly questioned.

"Precisely, Scarlett, don't be so ignorant," the Doctor scolded. "Did you see any trees up there? Certainly not."

She rolled her eyes at his matter-of-fact attitude.

"They've already passed away, if that's what you're thinking. The cold got to them before we could," the creature smiled and winked.

Scarlett still felt incredibly uneasy.

"I am Chuchip," the creature announced, trying to lighten up the mood of the room. "This is my son, Ashkii and my significant other, Nuttah. Over there is my lover's mother, Tiponi."

"Nice to meet you all," the Doctor beamed as Scarlett refused to reciprocate to his polite gesture.

Sticking his hand out to shake Nuttah's hand, the Doctor stumbled upon his own two feet as he approached her. He fell onto his hands and knees but refused to stand back up until the quake decided to stop. However, the entire room continued to shake as everyone grabbed onto a wall or whatever was nearby.

"What the hell is going on?" Scarlett yelled over the massive vibration of the cave as she hunched over the Doctor while clinging to his back.

"It's time to go get more wood!" Chuchip laughed aloud.

Chuchip bent over and pulled Scarlett away from the Doctor. Suddenly, he grabbed the Doctor's suit collar and yanked him to his feet. Still on the floor, Scarlett gazed up at the bear-deer mutant as he dragged the Doctor towards the entrance ladder.

"Quickly, while the ground is still moving and the game is rowdy! The women and children stay here. I've got twice the warrior power now," Chuchip grinned as he patted the Doctor on the back.

Confused, the Doctor spoke up:

"Man-power to do what? Kill people?"

"I think he's implying that he's going to kill you!" Scarlett assumed aloud.

Chuchip let out a bellowing laugh at Scarlett's remark.

"I don't know where you two are from, but on this planet, murder isn't our style," he snorted.

"It seems like the only option when the world is ending if you're desperate enough. Not to mention the burning pile of cadavers in the middle of your living room, I'd say it looks quite possible," the Doctor pointed out.

"These quakes happen every few days. It has become quite common. Our homes cannot bear the weight and pressure of the vibrations. Sooner or later, our holes collapse. Folks die… what's the point in having them go to waste? I go and dig up what I can find, or should I say, who I can find. Supplies don't go to waste," Chuchip explained as he climbed the ladder.

"I want to help!" Scarlett exclaimed happily as she jumped to her feet.

"No, my child, you must stay here. Women are scarce these days. Besides, you're just as hyperactive as my wife," Chuchip laughed as Nuttah rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scarlett questioned.

"First, you were scared. Then you were excited to help. Now you're upset that I wouldn't let you," Chuchip pointed out. "You're unstable."

"What's the rush? The tremors haven't even stopped yet," the Doctor questioned as he tried to change the subject while putting the helmet back onto his head.

"Some folks manage to find better situated people than us. Some find food while others find leftover medications. Some find clothing and others find currency. There's so much from our civilization before it turned deadly. It's just a matter of finding it… and surviving."

"And what do you do about the people that find those interesting things? If it's survival of the fittest over there, and murder isn't your style, then what do you do? Rob people and hope they don't kill you themselves?" Scarlett shouted up the ladder as she overheard the echoes of their conversation.

"Just because we're doomed doesn't mean that we let our civilization go to hell as well! We're traders, not stealers! If I find something that another family needs then we trade. It's as simple as that. Don't worry, I'm not going to bring your friend back chopped up into little pieces. He's just going to help me bring back some more fuel for the fire, and hopefully, whatever else we can find out here," Chuchip hollered as he reached the top of the hole.

Both the Doctor and Chuchip had managed to leave the underground home and wander the blistery, uneven grounds of the outside world. Inside the cave, Nuttah paced along the walls the second Chuchip crawled out of the hole. Scarlett noticed how sudden her behavior was and decided to approach her about her anxiety.

"He'll be back. My friend always comes back. He'll take care of your husband," Scarlett comforted her.

"Husband? What is that word?" Nuttah asked.

"You guys aren't married? You never had a marriage?"

"Marriage? What is a marriage?"

"Nevermind," Scarlett sighed. "I was just trying to make simple conversation to lighten the mood."

"There is only one mood. There always has been. It's nerve-wrenching! That's what it is!" Nuttah spat out as she began to nibble on her claws and pick up her pace.

"I… I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you," Scarlett apologized as she gave up trying to comfort her.

"It's not you. It's Chu. He's so… calm. I can't stand waiting for him every time he goes out there. The worrying… it physically hurts," Nuttah stammered as she headed towards the ladder.

"Wait!" Scarlett exclaimed as she quickly grabbed Nuttah's arm. "You can't go out there! You don't know how far they've gone."

Nuttah ripped her arm out of Scarlett's clutch and instinctively scratched Scarlett's right forearm with her unevenly, bitten claws. Scarlett winced in pain as she jumped back from the fox mutant.

"I'm not leaving! I'm going upstairs to wait for them. To keep an eye out!" Nuttah anxiously exclaimed as she frantically scampered up the ladder.

"But your son and mother are down here!" Scarlett screamed, annoyed at the schizophrenic fox-mother. "If we get caved in, wouldn't you rather be buried down here with your son?"

Nuttah had already made it to the top of the ladder and climbed out of hearing range. Scarlett pouted as she turned around to walk away from the ladder. She saw the grandmother out of the corner of her eye as she turned around and noticed that she had somehow fallen asleep during all that shouting. As she finished pivoting her body completely around, she noticed the son last. He was staring straight at her while sitting against the middle of the far wall. Unfortunately, she couldn't read the facial expressions of bear but she assumed that she probably upset him with her last remark to Nuttah. She was unsure as to if she offended or scared him, so she sat beside him instead. Scarlett cradled Ashkii in her arms as the two of them awaited for the return of their loved ones. Unwillingly, it became obvious that Tiponi fell asleep where she laid as the vibrating grounds comforted her into a sleep-state. While Ashkii was used to this kind of procedure, Scarlett couldn't help but worry as she focused all her attention on the entrance hole in the ceiling above them. The walls collapsing in on them wasn't on the top of Tiponi's or Ashkii's worry-list. Not ever having someone to talk to during these planet-quakes, Ashkii confided in Scarlett's pitiful attempts to try and comfort another living thing.

"I thought aliens were supposed to be mean," Ashkii mumbled. "Why ain't you mean?"

"Have you ever met an alien before now?"

"No."

"Then how would you know if they're mean or not?" Scarlett judged.

"Tippy said so."

"Has Tiponi ever met one?"

"I don't think so," he grumbled under his breath.

"Well, then…" Scarlett sighed.

"How can I trust you?" Ashkii asked playfully.

"You have to decide for yourself who to trust," Scarlett lectured him. "Everybody lies. Everybody has secrets. You just have to pick which ones whose lies don't bother you."

"Does pork and corn make tanshpashofa?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Does pork and corn make tanshpashofa?"

"Um, maybe," Scarlett guessed.

"See! You just lied! I can't trust you!"

"I can't be honest if I have no idea what you're talking about! Tanshippcouch, or whatever it is, happens to be something I know nothing about. I can only lie or be truthful about something I know," Scarlett defended herself. "Ask me something that you know nothing about but I do."

"Then how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"That depends on if you believe me or not."

"Where does your mind go when you fall asleep?" Ashkii aimlessly asked as he looked around and observed his grandmother snoring.

"I believe it says in your head," Scarlett answered sarcastically but comfortingly.

"No, it can't!" he exclaimed as he tilted his face upwards to look Scarlett in the eyes. "When I go to sleep, I am most certainly not at home!"

"That's because you're dreaming!" Scarlett bellowed aloud. "None of it is real."

"If dreams aren't real then how can I see them?"

"Your mind is enjoying its free-time. When you've been working all day, you want to have time to yourself. Well, your brain does the same exact time. Your brain allows your body to function. Once you're done functioning for the day, your brain does stuff on its own time like draw pictures or sing songs."

"If that's so, then why doesn't my brain keep its thoughts to itself while I'm trying to sleep? It's very rude that way. Like nightmares! They wake me up all the time! Why can't it just keep those to itself?"

"Your brain is connected to your eyeballs as well as the rest of you," Scarlett giggled. "I'm afraid it can't stop itself from waking you up. If the brain wants to imagine that you're dying then you really are! It makes your body truly believe that it's in danger. Your brain wakes you up so that you don't die."

"Then it shouldn't have thoughts about killing me in the first place!" Ashkii pouted.

"It's just your body worrying about dying. Every little, tiny cells that makes up your being will die someday. So they're all worried. You're only scared of dying because all those little microorganisms are scared of dying."

"Wait! My brain thinks I'm going to die?" he whimpered.

"You're going to be alright. You're not going to die," Scarlett reassured him.

Scarlett smiled at his profound, child-like innocence. Reminiscing about her childhood, Scarlett thought back to how she had to discover the answers like this for herself. However, her happy remembrances were short-lived when she realized why she didn't ask adults questions in the first place: their answers would've been bullshit just to calm the child down. Once she realized that that's what she was doing, she quickly decided to catch herself before she spoke again. Adults lying to their children, in order to try and hide them for the cruelties of the world, was the most annoying trait Scarlett could identify from her grandparents. Between lying and not being taken seriously, Scarlett hated herself for becoming a typical adult in one of these terrifying situations.

"Tippy says that I'll be big and strong when I die!" Ashkii beamed.

Scarlett snapped out of her train of thought as she heard the young boy's random, and unnaturally, cheerful response.

"Tippy says that when we die, each one of us becomes a part of a bigger person!" he spoke again.

"Like… you'll see each other on the other side? One big, happy family with your ancestors?"

"No, we'll all be the same person! Like a giant, warrior version of Papa!"

"I… I don't really understand. I'm not overly spiritual, if you know what I mean," Scarlett stated.

"The planets are stuck on the spirit's antlers so it has a very important job to do. Nonetheless, when we die and become souls, then the spirit must look around and find us so that it may snatch us. As it turns its mighty head, the planets turn. Mama says that folks die all the time so that's why the planets never really stop turning. But now Tippy says that not many of us are alive anymore so that's why our planet is so cold; it's not turning no more. If folks ain't dying then the planets ain't turning. But that's okay! There must be other creatures! You're here! The planets couldn't have stopped turning. You're from a different planet. There must be thousands of you! The weather is just being cranky. My home can't be dying like Tippy says!"

Scarlett didn't really know how to respond to that. She had made it up in her mind that she wasn't going to lie to the child just to make him feel better. However, how does someone tell a child that they're probably going to die before old age? Unsure of what to do, Scarlett didn't say a word and just cradled the boy.

"My mama says that there's no reason to be afraid of dying. So you must be telling the truth! My micro… micro… whatevers are scared, not me!"

"That sounds beautiful," Scarlett reassured him as she only half-heartedly paid attention.

Her point about microorganisms making a person who they are didn't come across to the child. Scarlett didn't bother to correct him because she still wished to say nothing that would shatter his perception of life. Since he did not ask her a question, she felt no obligation to correct him. Instead, she stroked his antlers as she blankly stared at the ground as her mind began to wander into deep thought.

"Where are you going to go when you die?" he curiously asked. "Since you're not spiritual and all."

"Where I came from," Scarlett whispered mindlessly but sorrowfully.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"I don't remember."

About three hours after the vibrations stopped, body parts began to fall from the entrance hole and smash into the ground. The thuds jumped both Scarlett and Ashkii awake from their cuddled, sleeping positions. Tiponi, on the other hand, hadn't moved a muscle. The Doctor, Chuchip, and Nuttah made it back down the steps of the ladder and began to drag the mutilated corpses toward the center of the den. The Doctor looked to Scarlett as he helped throw some head-fuel into the fire.

"Chuchip showed me around to a few entrances of those traders that he deals with. You want to help? I don't think we can do anymore for these folks before we head out on our way. But we can stop to donate a thing or two, don't you think? I'm dying to know what they've collected over the years," the Doctor exclaimed with excitement.

"You're getting really into this place, aren't you?" Scarlett asked sourly.

"Like it or not, I've already had this discussion with good ole Chuchip over here while we were out. I don't think we should still around here. He's got a family to support and limited supplies. It's not really the time of life for hosting parties when you've got mouths to feed. We should head out and find somewhere else to stay," the Doctor smiled.

The Doctor had a grin that went from ear to ear as he approached his friend and stuck his hand out to help her stand up. She clutched onto his grip and pulled herself up slowly. However, the force of the Doctor's tug flew her up quicker than she wanted. Scarlett stumbled to keep her balance as the Doctor had already skipped towards Chuchip in order to wish him farewell. Once he had said his goodbyes, he immediately began to charge up the ladder, leaving Scarlett behind. His companion rubbed her eyes and said her goodbyes as well. She gave Ashkii a hug and Tiponi a kiss on the cheek as she continued to sleep soundly on the ground, unaware of what all has happened around her that day. Scarlett made it to the top of the ladder, fully dressed in her orange suit, and had the Doctor help tug her out of the hole.

"Let's head back to the T.A.R.D.I.S. What direction is it?" Scarlett pouted.

"You're kidding, right? We've only just got here. Hidden caves, hidden wonders in a dying world? Isn't that marvelous? We have to go check it out!" the Doctor beamed.

"This place is morbid. Everyone around us are dying. By the end of the year, it's most likely that all these people will be dead. This isn't exactly what I call a good time," Scarlett moaned as she began to walk aimlessly into the tundra.

The Doctor grabbed Scarlett's left arm and yanked her towards him, just inches away from his face. He had a scornful, angry look on his face as his delightful mood quickly turned sour.

"This attitude of yours is what got me pissed off before we even landed. You'll never learn to let go if you become too emotionally attached. You're coming with me. We are going to finish exploring this planet. Then I am taking you home," the Doctor scolded.

Scarlett didn't know what to say as the Doctor's clutch tightened on her arm. The circulation even seemed to be completely cut off. He let go of her and stomped off into the sandstorms and wind. Scarlett didn't hesitate as she followed behind him, unsure as to what other options there were for her to consider.

After about twenty minutes of walking, the two of them reached another hole in the ground, similar to Chuchip's home. The Doctor was the first one to slide down the ladder. When he looked up at Scarlett, that excited grin was on his face again. Scarlett figured that it was either genuine or just a mask in order to threaten her to be excited. She proceeded to follow behind him as they both descended down the darkened hole, unsure of what they would find. Light at the bottom of the steps indicated that people were there. When they made it to the ground, however, there was much more stuff in that little cubby hole than what was in Chuchip's. Wardrobes and storage cabinets galore filled the tiny space as well as worn out pieces of mysteriously technology and piles upon piles of corpses. A small fire was in the center along with the same kind of air vent as the other hole had. Nonetheless, there was more than just four creatures inside this trading center… there were seven adult creatures; all of they appeared to be mutations of different mammals. As soon as Scarlett and the Doctor made their presence known, a lizard-like beast with the eyes of a wildcat approached the two of them. They both proceeded to take their helmets off so they could properly communicate with him. However, to the Doctor's surprise, the creature appeared to have no ability to speak. He looked down at the creature's hands as they reached out to Scarlett. She looked down into his cupped hands and saw tiny, square bits of copper.

"I think he's offering you money for your blood," the Doctor suspected. "There's some kind of IV bag tied to his leg. I'm sure he's got all sorts of needles hidden in his pockets somewhere."

"Blood?" Scarlett screeched.

"Problem?"

Scarlett recomposed herself as she straightened out her blazer from underneath her suit and arrogantly stuck her nose up in the air.

"The FDA would not approve."

"Scarlett, stop being so snobbish. These are desperate times here so there's desperate people. I don't think these people value money over people's lives on this planet. I don't think they have any problem giving it away for such a cause."

"Currency must be valuable if they must bride people for donations," Scarlett rudely pointed out.

"You can't help but only see the worst in people, can you?"

"It's not my fault all living creatures are greedy," Scarlett groaned.

The Doctor let out an irritated sigh of defeat.

"Just give him what he wants and we'll be on our way. Volunteer!"

"Volunteer? Why would I do it for free when they're perfectly willing to pay me for it?" Scarlett menacingly grinned.

"Don't be such a hypocrite! You just stated…"

"All living things! Am I not a living creature? I did not exclude myself," Scarlett interrupted with a snide smile.

Scarlett winced and squeezed her nabbed finger. The alien turned with his back facing towards them as he patiently waited for the machine to calculate.

"Did he just prick me?" she shouted in disgust.

"Well, you wanted to know your blood type. It's either the quick way or wait a week for them to call you back once you've donated," the Doctor reassured her.

"Quick? I've never seen such a tiny machine before. It's just a box! How can it be a machine?" Scarlett questioned.

"It amazes me how dumbfounded you are about things," the Doctor giggled.

"Must you make fun of my being naïve?"

"Oh, please. All the things we've done? The places we've gone? You travel around in an alien time machine for Pete's sake. Is it not possible for a little box to determine the kind of blood in your system?"

"I… I suppose not," Scarlett embarrassingly admitted.

The little machine beeped which caught Scarlett off guard and made her jump. The Doctor stood on his tip-toes to try and look over the alien's broad shoulder.

"Type B! Just like Jack Nicholson," the Doctor smiled.

"Jack who?"

"Nevermind."

"This is humiliating. It's like I'm illegally donating to support a drug habit. This is a literal drug den. Ouch!" Scarlett complained as the alien crammed the needle into her vein.

After the procedure, the alien directed Scarlett to go lay on the ground. The Doctor helped lay her flat as she felt light-headed. As she go down, the creature threw the bride money in her face and hopped along to the other end of the room. None of the other creatures towered over her. They turned their back to her and continued about their business on the other end of the room.

"How very rude of him," Scarlett mumbled while gathering up the bits of metal money. "What am I supposed to do with this anyway?"

"I feel like he's done this job too many times before to be customer-friendly anymore. Besides, you were very rude yourself," the Doctor pointed out. "You have no use for the money. Just give it back or get rid of it."

"Why don't we give it to Chuchip and his family?" Scarlett asked out of the kindness of her heart.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and took the coins out of her hands. Placing them in his suit pocket, he grabbed Scarlett's hand and squeezed it tight.

"We'll give it to Chuchip," he reassured her.

Although the Doctor played along with her help-everyone-and-anyone act, Scarlett began to frown as she thought about their stay on this planet.

"I just want to get out of here," Scarlett groaned as she tried to sit up.

"Have you given up trying to save everybody now?" the Doctor politely asked.

"Yes," Scarlett sighed in defeat, "this planet just feels like a pointless cause. I just… can't get excited. I'm sorry."

"I don't care if you get excited. I just wanted to prove that there's no point in getting attached if you can't save them. Now that you've seen the light, I'd like to leave too. There's only so much we can do," the Doctor reassured her.

The Doctor helped Scarlett get up and go up the ladder since she was still light on her feet. They put their helmets back on and didn't bother to say goodbye to this bunch of mutated scavengers. The second they both reached the land above, an earthquake knocked Scarlett off her feet. The Doctor tried to stand her back up but the quivering ground only knocked him down too. Both of them just sat on the cold ground while they waited for the planet to stop shaking. As soon as it ended, the Doctor helped his friend to her feet and held onto her until she regained her balance.

"What was that?" Scarlett cried.

"An earthquake, obviously."

"But what caused it? Didn't one of these just happen like… a few hours ago? Earthquakes don't just happen one right after the other."

"Something this size… most likely a meteor," he declared.

"Oh no, Doctor, we should really get back to the T.A.R.D.I.S.," Scarlett worried aloud.

"I told you meteors were very highly possible!" the Doctor bragged rather seriously.

"Then let's hurry and get the money to Chuchip. Then we really have to go!" Scarlett proclaimed.

"So much for not getting attached anymore!" the Doctor yelled as he grabbed Scarlett's hand to run towards his machine.

"Just because I'm not allowed to get attached doesn't mean that I shouldn't still perform random acts of kindness!" Scarlett announced over the roaring winds.

The Doctor rolled his eyes as the two of them ran as fast as they could towards the T.A.R.D.I.S. Neither of them managed to keep their balance very well as they stumbled about every few seconds. The Doctor looked up towards the sky as he watched a shooting star race across the horizon. Before he had time to process what would happen, another massive quake knocked the two of them to their feet again. They struggled to get up as they raced toward their safe haven. However, they were about to pass the hole of Chuchip's family, since following the holes was the only way to navigate where the T.A.R.D.I.S. is parked. As they approached the hole, the two of them could see the outlined figure of Tiponi a few feet away from her home. Scarlett ran past the hole and headed straight for the grandmother.

"You mustn't be out here in this! The cold is deadly! The winds are dreadful!" Scarlett cautioned as she handed Tiponi the copper.

"The end is coming. I can feel it," Tiponi whimpered emotionlessly.

"Oh, please…" the Doctor groaned. "You can't feel it. You know it. There's something going on here that you never told your family. You knew the stars were falling. They've been falling your whole life… they're not stars, are they?"

"White dwarves… all of them," Tiponi confirmed.

"All of them? Every single one?" the Doctor questioned.

"They've weakened enough for me to even believe that they're now black dwarves. It's an unescapable situation, really. There's only so many of us left. I just… I thought these years of apocalyptic madness would come when no living person remained. Stories tell you that you won't be around for the end of the world," she swept in defeat.

"There's no where you can be safe?" Scarlett desperately asked.

"I'm afraid not. For trillions of years, our system have survived from the heat radiated from those stars. But now, they are dying; they've reached their last evolutionary state. This planet is decaying because of both physical damage and heat. It's only a matter of time. We're doing the best we can for as long as we can. My family has evolved over the decades to withstand the cold. They do not remember the days of warmth and comfort. Harsh times are all they know. The world isn't ending for them. It only appears to be ending for me."

"So your family doesn't truly believe that this is madness? This… competitive lifestyle is normal to them! You never told them that the world as they know it is dying. And traumatically quick as well!" Scarlett raged.

"They've grown up to accept death at any waking moment. Not so much myself…" Tiponi sighed as she reminisced her youth.

Another explosion caused a much greater quake that cracked the very surface that the three of them were standing on. The Doctor did not hesitate to move quickly as he grabbed Scarlett's arm for the final time start running straight for the T.A.R.D.I.S. Scarlett couldn't help but look back at Tiponi in the distance as the Doctor physically dragged her toward the time machine.

"Doctor, we have to save them! Get them all in the T.A.R.D.I.S.! Something!" Scarlett protested as Tiponi's figure faded into the distance.

"No!" the Doctor yelled as they reached the blue, wooden box.

Scarlett tugged her arm away as the Doctor unlocked the doors. He took one step inside while Scarlett stayed standing outside. Another quake caused the entire machine to shake, quiver, and moan.

"Yes!" she protested as she refused to get inside.

"They're probably all dead by now! The entrance has already collapsed, and they're all buried alive! All the dwarves are falling. We came to visit just a little too late."

"Tiponi could still be standing there!" Scarlett cried.

"There's nothing to do here, Ms. Bathurst! I don't know how else to get that into your infantile little cranium of yours! Entropy is inevitable for them. For all of us! It's only a matter of time before every planet that exists right now to run out of energy and die! Energy cannot be destroyed. It only travels somewhere else and makes new things, new planets. The universe is constantly killing and recreating itself. There's nothing to do here! It's the natural order. Drop the god complex and get in the bloody T.A.R.D.I.S!"

"Why is it you who gets to choose who lives or dies?" she raged.

"We don't have time for this, Scarlett!"

"If it were the little boy, you would've gone back to save him! But it's the old, dying grandmother who you won't help! Who gives you the right to choose that a child is worth saving but an elderly woman isn't? So what? The child had so much life ahead of him so that makes you believe that he's worth saving! The woman has already lived so she isn't worth the effort! You're just a bad as the rest of my race! You'll mourn and fuss over the cancerous tumors of a child but not the tumors of an elderly person. How can you even value one person's life over another's just because of age? Or race? A teen dies from a self-inflicted drug overdose and gets a gigantic memorial from their school, a day named in their honor, and their family gets a fundraiser for the funeral. What did that teen's grandparent get when they passed away a year before the grandchild's O.D.? A bloody urn that you're most likely going to smother your cigarette butts in! If Tiponi's life isn't worth saving to you then neither is mine!"

Scarlett slammed the door into the Doctor's face, leaving him inside the machine and her outside in the apocalypse. His being froze only for a moment as the shock of her argument sunk into his brain. Once he realized that she meant to stay out there for good, he quickly yanked both doors wide open as a humungous gust of wind and dirt blew into his face and flapped the sides of his jacket all over the place. Unfortunately, the debris was too thick and the distance was almost invisible. The Doctor hollered for Scarlett as he took a step or two outside. Not wanting to stray too far from the T.A.R.D.I.S., he clung onto the outside door handle as he tried to walk as far away from his machine as possible without letting go. He continued to holler for her until he saw the outline of her figure in the distance. She was dragging Tiponi along with her.

After dropping Tiponi off on some random planet with similar gas concentrations and environmental conditions, the Doctor and Scarlett headed off to another unknown location together. The Doctor never brought up the conversation about dropping his companion back off on her home planet and Scarlett had no desire to remind him. After saving only one life, the Doctor couldn't help but be reminded why he has companions in the first place. However, the Gallifreyian's moment of hope and joy only lasted for so long. The T.A.R.D.I.S. dematerialized as it venture off onto some random location as memories of Pompeii flooded the Doctor's mind along with the feeling of regret.


	10. Episode 9

**Episode 9:**

**Let's Play a Different Game**

Scarlett clung to the T.A.R.D.I.S.'s door handles as she flung herself outside in a surge of excitement. The Doctor scuttled behind her while he mentally debated if they should've landed there or not.

"Don't look so bored, Doctor. Let's go find out where we are!" Scarlett exclaimed as she flew herself out into the unknown location.

Despite their latest adventure, the Doctor couldn't help but wonder if Scarlett was faking her excitement. However, his instincts told him that her constant, dramatic mood swings were not signs of false enthusiasm. The Doctor sped-walked behind her in case they landed somewhere dangerous. He didn't even bother to check the readings on the T.A.R.D.I.S. in order to see where they landed. The light from the machine's interior lit up the room that Scarlett and the Doctor were now standing in.

"It's tiny and smells of dust," Scarlett complained as she let out a cough.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that it looks like it could all fall apart any minute," the Doctor concluded as he scavenged the room.

The two of them strolled around the vacant, abandoned space. They were exploring for no other reason than curiosity. The room consisted of a corner kitchen with built-in table countertops and non-working appliances such as a stove and small refrigerator. There was a set of chairs with a table that was completely intact. The wooden floors and walls looked like they were ready to collapse from the wear and tear of many years. However, the kitchen ensemble didn't look worn out at all; it was merely coated with layers of dust. No other furniture or homely item sat in the tiny living space. The only two windows were painted black and the front door stood by itself on a lonely wall. No one had obviously lived there for a very long time.

"Where are the mites?" the Doctor questioned.

"The what?"

"The cockroaches? The rodents? Where are they? Old, beaten down place like this must have little parasites gnawing at its remains."

"You got me… but I did just find some candles in a drawer," Scarlett smiled as she ransacked the kitchen countertops' drawers.

"Sometimes I wonder how much you actually listen to me," the Doctor stated.

His companion giggled at his remark as she stuffed her pockets with random goodies she found in the drawers: cigarettes, money, stamps, etc.

Old memorabilia is always worth a fortune in the future.

Suddenly, the T.A.R.D.I.S. doors shut from across the room. The interior of the building couldn't be seen anymore and everything was pitch black. The Doctor stumbled towards his machine and pulled on the handles where he reached her.

"Locked!" the Doctor shouted in dismay.

"How?"

"Oh, something has her upset. Poor, poor girl. Something isn't right."

"Something like what?"

"Temporal shifts tend to distraught her," the Doctor complained as he began shouting angrily at his machine, "which is a total contradiction since she herself is, in fact, a temporal shift!"

He ventured into his coat pocket to pull out the T.A.R.D.I.S. key. Once he put the key into the lock, it shot back out. He didn't even get a chance to turn it in the lock before the T.A.R.D.I.S. rejected it. When it hit the wooden floor, the ching of the key vibrated throughout the silent room making the air seemingly tense from the high-pitched noise.

"There's no need to get loud," Scarlett's voice traveled through the darkness. "I got candles."

"My machine automatically deadlocks herself and all you want to do is light candles," the Doctor heatedly announced.

"Calm down. We certainly can't find out what the problem is if we can't see, now can we?"

Scarlett's attitude was still at an all-time high from their last adventure. However, the Doctor wasn't quite as lighthearted as his companion appeared to be. He spun around to no longer face the T.A.R.D.I.S's doors and estimated where he had just heard Scarlett's voice. About five, large strides away from his machine, the Doctor fell over one of the kitchen chairs. He started coughing from the dust cloud that now consumed the room.

"Fine," he sighed, "go ahead and light them."

"I don't have any matches."

"Then how do you figure lighting them, my dear?"

"Don't you have something? A lighter or some matches?"

"That's a fire hazard. I don't keep objects like that on my person."

"Doctor, I've seen the size of your pockets. They're bigger on the inside. Don't you at least have something like two twigs?"

"God Lord, girl. What do you need twigs for?"

"To rub them together and make a fire."

"You need sticks, not twigs. And no, I don't have any."

"Sticks, twigs, whatever. We need to make fire to see."

"Don't look to me for help. I don't know."

"Remind me not to take you with me on a survival mission. We'd both be dead."

"Excuse you, Scarlett, but I've gotten you out of quite a number of sticky, little situations. Don't tell me that I don't know what I'm doing," the Doctor said light-heartedly.

"Then light this candle."

"I don't know how to light the candle. There's no matches around."

"Exactly! If you can't light this little wick then…"

"Quit bittering with me, Miss Scarlett, or I'll give you a good licking."

"Good luck finding your target if you can't see anything," Scarlett grinned.

"Why are we even arguing? Let's just find the door and allow the natural light in," the Doctor suggested. "It's certainly a lot less complicated than lighting candles."

Scarlett rolled her eyes at his recommendation. Although the blackness prevented him from seeing her, the Doctor knew exactly was her facial expression was and smirked just thinking about it.

The two of them started walking around the room with their hands and arms spread out. Scarlett started following the feel of the wall until she found a window. She tugged on it but it wouldn't budge. After a couple minutes, she finally made her way to the front door. Luckily, it wasn't locked and she flung the door open towards her. The entire room light up with a dull color as the moonlight shone into the room. Everything was now visible under some light.

"Doctor, I know where we are! This is Union Street!"

"Where?"

"I used to go pass through this street all the time when I was little! And look," Scarlett stretched out her arm and pointed to the apartments across the street, "those folks have decorations out. Pumpkins! It must be Halloween!"

The Doctor had a displeased look on his face as he scanned the street.

"Where are the children?"

"It must be really late at night. I'm sure they're home by now. Or maybe it's not the 31st yet…"

The Doctor took a step outside and turned around to get a good look at what building they were in.

"We're in a house. The majority of the street looks like apartments."

"That's not uncommon, Doctor. My home is a house and I only live a few minutes away."

The Doctor turned to face back to the decorated apartments across the street. He strode across the empty road as Scarlett stayed in the doorway of the vacant house. He paused in the middle of the street and turned around to signal her to stay where she was. Once he faced the apartments again, she watched him as he got closer and closer to one of the buildings. The only thing she could see from that distance was the outline of his figure bending over and picking something up. He marched across the street again and approached Scarlett with an apple and a newspaper in both his hands.

"An apple. They have a basket set out. Who gives children apples on Halloween? Low-sugar, healthy no-lives," the Doctor whined.

"So it is Halloween! I knew it."

"There. Are you happy? It's Halloween… still doesn't fix our problem."

"Well, what does the paper have to say?" Scarlett asked.

"'San Francisco Earthquake Recovery Continues'…" the Doctor read aloud from the front page. "Looks like we're in 1906."

"Well, that's just peachy."

Disgruntled, the Doctor handed Scarlett the apple and carelessly threw the newspaper over his shoulder as he pushed his way back into the old house. Her face became distorted as she thought about her recent despise of apples… and plums. She placed the apple into her coat pocket as she stared at the pathetic newspaper that was now on the lonely concrete. Leaving it there, she mindlessly followed the Doctor back inside. As she began to partly shut the door behind her, she turned to listen to her friend talk to himself.

"An empty street. An abandoned house. It hardly seems like enough to scare my T.A.R.D.I.S."

"Keep this door open so that we can see. I'm going to keep it partly open. Once we find out what scared her, I want to go check up on Emmy while we are here."

"I'm afraid that won't be too wise of a choice."

"Why's that?" Scarlett asked as she heart skipped a beat.

"Have you seen how old that refrigerator is? I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you weren't even born yet," the Doctor stated sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, I forgot already. I suppose she would be about… 12 years old," Scarlett smirked as she reminisced. "She's not even in America now. She's from England, so I bet that's where she is right now."

"Fascinating," the Doctor mumbled under his breath in a non-interested tone.

Scarlett gave him a snarky smirk of minor disapproval and continued about her business.

They were now both back inside to look around some more. The Doctor began investigating the less obvious places such as checking under floor boards or listening into the cracks in the walls. Scarlett did all that she could do; she looked under the table and appliances. Beside the countertops stood a tall, thin cabinet that reached almost completely to the ceiling. Expecting to find rotting canned-goods, she slowly pulled one of the doors toward her. She peeked inside only to find another room.

"Doctor!" she laughed. "I found the bathroom."

The Doctor scurried towards the opened cabinet to have a look.

"Oh my, it is most certainly a water-closet. It doesn't look modern whatsoever."

"Why in the world is a bathroom right next to the kitchen?"

"Well, my dear, I can only assume that it conserved pipe usage when the house was built."

"That's quite clever actually. I've never seen a hidden room behind a cabinet before."

"It becomes a rather popular interior design in later years. Well, your later years. This room looks like it holds nothing more than a toilet, mirror and bathtub. I'm going to head back out and search for something more useful than the lavatory."

Scarlett turned to face him as he headed back into the kitchen.

"Search for what, Doctor?"

"I haven't the faintest clue but we can't really go anywhere else, now can we?"

Scarlett saw the Doctor stroll through the room and head towards the front door. He was feeling the door and sniffing it. She assumed that he was performing his normal yet abnormal duties whenever he investigated a situation. Scarlett, however, didn't know what to do while her friend went about his business. There's wasn't much she could look for, so she just looked around for something to do. She was bored with this trip already and her previous attitude was beginning to fade. After discovering the bathroom, she decided to test things out. She played with the levers and nobs to see if anything worked; no water appeared to be running. The mirror wouldn't open so it obviously wasn't a medicine cabinet. Scarlett was tugging on the mirror to try and pry it open when the Doctor sat down on one of the kitchen chairs.

"Where's the bedroom? Tea room? Basement? Attic? It's a single room with a bathroom hidden behind a cabinet," the Doctor pondered aloud. Scarlett could see him from the bathroom as she spoke.

"Maybe it's just an old house that's been in the neighborhood for years and years. It must've finally fallen down because I don't remember it," Scarlett explained as she continued to tug on the mirror.

The Doctor wasn't listening to what she had to say and put his head in his hands. After a few seconds, he got up from his seat and started kicking the T.A.R.D.I.S. doors in frustration.

"Why do you have to be so stupid?" he shouted at her. "About a thousand and a half years with you and now you're dumping me? You big, scaredy cat… Open up!"

The violent pounding of the Doctor's kicks and punches vibrated the atmosphere enough to cause the weak walls and floor to shake. A small, squeaking noise came from the empty was behind the T.A.R.D.I.S. Scarlett stopped tugging on her mirror and the Doctor froze to listen. Suddenly, a few boards from the wall began to fall forward and a mattress appeared. Dust consumed the whole room once more as Scarlett raced out of the bathroom to see what happened.

"I think we just found the bed," Scarlett coughed as she used to her arm to protect her face from the filth in the air.

"Alright… so there's a wall bed. I suppose that makes this house functional. Or at least, was functional at one time," the Doctor muffled.

"One less problem that we have to think about! It's not a random shack. It was a home at some point. That's not weird, supernatural, or extraterrestrial in any way, shape, or form. Just worry about getting your machine to open now, please," Scarlett begged.

"Only if you stop playing with that mirror," the Doctor complained, "you're being very distracting.

"I'm distracting?" Scarlett yelled and rolled her eyes. "You're uncontrollable and loud."

After giving each other an agitated glance, the Doctor focused his attention on his machine again as Scarlett went back into the bathroom. The moment she stepped insider, the Doctor's screeching was at it again. Scarlett stopped messing around with her mirror and came out into the kitchen again to see what all the yelling was about… again. The Doctor had his hair in his hands and looked ready to pull it all out of his skull. Once she saw that it was just her friend getting frustrated like he had just been, she went back into the lavatory for the third time. Standing in from of the mirror, she stared back at her reflection. Boredom taking over her, she had a staring contest with herself as the sound of the Doctor's wailing filled the air. After her eyes burned for a couple minutes, Scarlett finally blinked as she suddenly thought of something else to do. She ran out into the kitchen to grab a knife from a drawer and headed back towards the bathroom.

"I'm going to see my future husband, Doctor, would you like to come see?" She asked as she looked at her friend.

The Doctor was still kicking and screaming at his precious machine, so he didn't notice her presence or question. She shrugged her shoulders and went to try out the Halloween myth for her own amusement knowing that prying the mirror off the wall was impossible. She skipped into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror again. The apple was drawn from her pocket and she began carving the skin off of it in a spiral. She took a chomp out of the fruit as she laid the knife down onto the top of the toilet. She threw the apple peel over her shoulder and turned around to see what letter formed from the peel that was now on the floor.

"The letter 'G', Doctor. My husband's name will start with 'G'," Scarlett exclaimed from behind the cabinet.

All she could hear was the cantankerous grumbles of the Doctor in the other room. She knew that he didn't hear her at all. Exhausted of trying to get his attention, she walked over to the cabinet doors and closed them almost all of the way. There was another myth she had in mind but knew that she was the only one that cared to try them at the moment. Knowing it would be more fun in the dark, there still needed to be a little bit of light in the room to see the mirror, so that's why she closed the doors only partway.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a couple minutes while waiting for the vision of her future husband to appear before her. Her eyes began to burn again so she had to blink them a few times to get them moist. After a couple more blinks, she could see the outline of a skull behind her. Shocked, she flung herself around to see if there was really anything behind her; there was nothing there. Scarlett slowly turned around to face the mirror again. On edge, she kept starting for another couple minutes. As goose-bumps formed all over her body, she saw the image of a woman's face in the mirror. Knowing this time that it's all in her head, she didn't turn around. Instead, she called for the Doctor.

"Doctor?" she shouted.

He didn't respond to her.

"Doctor!" she screamed.

"What in heaven's name is it?" he yelled from the kitchen.

He didn't go to her but stayed in the kitchen instead and shouted from there.

"I think I'm a lesbian."

"Why are you telling me this now? Your sexuality doesn't concern me, you know that. If you're just discovering this now, it shouldn't surprise you. You're not exactly what I'd call the feminine kind…" the Doctor mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Scarlett asked in an annoyed tone of voice. Not breaking eye contact with the mirror, she fought back with him. "Are you trying to say that I'm not a lady?"

"No, no. I'm just saying you're a rather masculine lady that wears lipstick. You have the brutality of men… and you have short hair."

"What's wrong with my hair? For a two thousand year old alien, you sure are old-fashioned."

"I am not! I'm hip. I'm cool. I'm swag."

Scarlett rolled her eyes as she remained standing in front of the mirror.

"Look, I may not look too young but I've…" the Doctor's voice cut off as he approached the bathroom to spiritedly argue with Scarlett.

The Doctor froze where he stood as he looked into the room. His eyes widen as he stood in shock. Scarlett noticed that he finally came towards her so she broke eye contact with the mirror. She gestured for him to keep walking towards her and the mirror.

"Do you see the face in the mirror too? Come look!" she said cheerfully.

He didn't say a word nor did he move from his spot.

"You might want to turn around," he suggested.

Confused, Scarlett did as she was told. Startled, she jumped backwards into the wall when she turned around to see a woman standing behind her. The face of the real woman resembled the face of the woman in the mirror. She appeared the have the body of an attractive Indian woman. She wore a hijab yet had a seductive, genie-like outfit on to cover half of her body. The hijab did not do its job any justice since her long, black hair fell around her shoulders and face. On top of the cloth that is supposed to be covering her whole head, laid the crown of a duchess. She was obviously taller than the two of them but the high heels made it more exaggerated. Glossy yet dark, brown lipstick covered her lips. She stared down into Scarlett's eyes with her seemingly pitch black eyes.

"Aren't I going to get a 'hello'?" the stranger asked in a seductive voice.

Scarlett didn't quite know what to do or say but the Doctor stepped right in. He took a few steps forward to stand behind his companion.

"I'm the Doctor and this is my friend Scarlett," he smiled.

The stranger let out a small giggle of delight as she looked at the two of them.

"Oh, I know, honey. I remember," the Indian woman grinned.

"Are you from my future?" Scarlett asked.

The stranger gave her a confused look.

"Are you my spouse? Did you come from the future?" Scarlett asked again.

The Doctor gave her a light smack on the back of her head and groaned at her innocent question.

"Ow! The hell was that for?" Scarlett screamed.

"You're rude and dimwitted," the Doctor stated.

Scarlett gave him a ticked off glare as she threatened him to say something else insulting.

"Please, my dear. Just because you travel with me doesn't mean that everyone else can time travel too. That's only something I can do… unless you've got a vortex manipulator but that's none of your concern. Now, dear woman, would you mind telling us your name and intent?" the Doctor asked sweetly and very politely.

The Indian woman laughed aloud and, unexpectedly, reached out and gave Scarlett a hug. Not knowing what to do, Scarlett awkwardly accepted the embrace. The woman glanced over at the Doctor and gave him a wink.

"It's Gremory now, sugar. But you might know me better as Gamori."

"Gamori!" Scarlett exclaimed as her face lit up. She quickly returned the hug.

The Doctor stayed where he was and remained skeptical.

"You're a woman," Scarlett laughed.

"It's a long story," Gremory sighed.

"We've got time," the Doctor interrupted them in a more sour tone of voice.

Gremory took in another deep breath as her cheerful attitude began to go away.

"I kind of don't want to talk about it," she said.

"I kind of do," the Doctor responded.

"Now who's being the rude one, Doctor?" Scarlett snapped.

"My T.A.R.D.I.S. is scared. And I think it's him… eh, her. She just magically poofs up behind you. He… she's from another planet, for God's sake! Let alone a different time period!"

"That's a great question, Doctor," Scarlett said while trying not to let her friend be so mean. "Where did you come from, Gamori?"

"Gremory, if you don't mind. I heard you two next door. You, Doctor, are being rather noisy."

"So you came from the neighbor's house?" Scarlett asked.

"Of course! You don't think I just snapped my fingers and transferred planets, did you? I used the front door, sweet-cheeks. You two looked pretty distracted. Sneaking by you wasn't a struggle."

"Well then, I'd certainly like to know how you did transfer planets. Since, you know, you must have at some point. Not to mention having a sex-change operation while you were at it," the Doctor irritably questioned.

Gremory huffed in annoyance at his rudeness.

"You think I asked for this? I liked my body just the way it was!" she snorted. Looking over her figure for a moment, she took a sigh and lightened up. "However, I'm not displeased with the change. I'm quite attractive, don't you think, Scarlett?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes as Gremory winked at her.

"God, it doesn't matter what gender you are, you just can't stop flirting, can you?" the Doctor whined. "Could you please just give me a straight answer? My T.A.R.D.I.S. refuses to let us in. I think you're the cause of the disturbance. You're making her feel very uncomfortable."

"In all honesty, I don't believe that it is I who is causing the problem. One of my employees has run off again, and I'm on the lookout for him. He's a trouble-maker; a real pain in my ass," Gremory sighed.

"Well, I'm quite positive your friend isn't from another planet so I highly doubt that he is the cause," the Doctor argued.

"On the contrary, Doctor, we are both of the same kind. Spirits, of all things. It's Samhain; the busiest time of the year for summonings. The veil between the living and the dead is quite thin. I snuck out to have some fun, and he sort of made a run for it."

"You seemed pretty alive when I saw you on Saturn! When did you die?" Scarlett asked, shocked.

"And you thought I was rude! Why not say it a little more bluntly?" the Doctor sarcastically scolded his companion. "But you're a daemon. A man, now a spirit, who has lived during the Golden Age of man. How can this be?"

"I'm still a daemon. Apparently, I always have been. Just because I existed and died during that time period, I'm labeled as a 'daemon'. I'm not too happy about that, mind you. Daemons have a bad rep around here in this time period. They even changed our name, I think. Anyhow, we're not as helpful and kind to humans as we used to be. Why should we? Nature spirits? No, sir, not anymore. No more parties. No more gambling. No more music. Pure evil… that's what they call us. Humans are mean to our kind. I don't see why we have to be nice back. Why not raise a little hell? Have a little fun."

"Wait… a daemon? You mean… you're a… demon?" Scarlett exclaimed.

"Yes! Demons! That's what we're called. It was a minor change. You can't blame me for not remembering."

"Satanic de-demons! The unadulterated image of malicious sin. In front of my eyes! That's just p-peachy. Just peachy!" Scarlett stuttered nervously as she began to hide underneath the Doctor's arm.

"Scarlett, my dear, there's no need to be frightened. It's still good, old Gamori. I mean… Gremory," the Doctor reassured her.

"Yeah, sugar, it's still me. Just me with woman parts!" Gremory grinned to cheer Scarlett up.

The Doctor judged Gremory as he analyzed her being.

"Maybe you wouldn't have such a bad rep if you weren't partying all the time and living by your own rules," the Doctor pointed out as he held Scarlett close.

"I have my orders! I'm not a free spirit, you know. I have my duties as do my employees. However, one has got to learn how to live it up and enjoy himself, right? We, daemons, used to be supportive spirits; we are one with the earth. Humans stopped giving back to us; they stopped loving us. We'd listen to their prayers and ask for a small favor in return. Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is. So humans starting praying to a different division; a hierarchy of the metaphysical… of the sky. Those selfless bastards asked nothing in return for prayers. They're not actually selfless; they get the souls in the end! The more you pray to one division, the more souls they get; it's all a corporate competition, I tell you! Not all spirits are in harmony, you know. Nonetheless, if the rare number of humans summon a daemon then we must try to devote their attention to us and win over their souls. It's not that easy, you know. I don't answer half of my calls anymore; they're not genuine. God, I've had so many teenage slumber-party calls… idiotic Ouija boards. However, I'm not one to answer prayers. I'm not a miracle-worker, Doctor. I don't show up when I'm summoned just to grant your wishes. I have a specific job description. Thaumaturgy isn't my style; I want to have some fun. Live a little, you know? Divination is my game. Want to know about the past, present, and future? I'm the one for you!" Gremory stated with a gleaming smile.

Scarlett didn't know what to say. The Doctor focused carefully on everything Gremory has been saying.

"So you're telling me… that after you died on Saturn, you came to Earth as a demonic spirit that can foresee the future?" the Doctor asked, confused.

"That's 100% correct, sir," Gremory nodded.

"Clear one or two things up for me," the Doctor giggled in disbelief. "How exactly did you get from one place to another? First off, how did you die?"

"You guessed right. I wasn't very happy under Zeus, so I decided to head out into the fog. You two did it, so why couldn't I? Honestly, I don't remember how I died. It was dark and misty out there. I just recall walking and seeing a figure appear to me in the distance; it was a woman. In fact, the woman had the same body that I have right now. When I look in the mirror, I see her… she is me. But at the time, in the mist, she was a completely different person. I was still a male and this female approached me. We talked for a while. Then as she was about to turn around, I grabbed her arm; I didn't want her to leave. I had so many questions. Before I knew it, I blacked out and woke up on this planet; not this time period, however… it was years ago; there were hardly any humans around. Religion was a fairly new idea.

"What did she say to you?" the Doctor asked. "Every word!"

"Who? The woman? She told me that I am a Duke and that I must make something useful of myself. I asked her for a name but she merely called herself a Holy Guardian Angel."

"An angel?" Scarlett finally spoke up. "You told us that demons don't associate with angels; you're different corporations."

"Is that what they're called? Yes, I suppose that it is. Well, I did not know of angels and demons back then… or of the other businesses at the time. That is all she told me. I wanted more answers. That's why I grabbed her."

"Other businesses?" Scarlett asked.

"You know, other religions: ancient religions. I'm lucky. Angels and demons of modern religions are still in pretty fierce competition. We have prayers coming in every year. Other businesses aren't so fortunate. The spirits still exist, but they have no purpose anymore; they roam around aimlessly. If not enough souls are collected per religion, it eventually loses business and gets forgotten."

"I'm lost. Well, I'm always lost but in this subject more than the rest," Scarlett confessed.

"Do you know how chains of stores work?" Gremory asked.

"Sure I do," Scarlett responded.

"They go in debt. Sales go down. Eventually they go bankrupt and close for good."

"Wait, religions that don't get enough prays and souls close down?"

"Precisely."

The Doctor pondered what he was hearing. Scarlett stayed leaning against her friend while still pondering over Gremory's existence.

"This isn't making any sense," the Doctor whispered to himself. "How could you just pop from one place and time to another like that? And dead even?"

"She has just told us about the existence of religious spirits and her demonic presence. How can you just be caring about how she time-traveled?" Scarlett asked furiously.

"Could you excuse us a moment?" the Doctor asked Gremory.

The Doctor tightly squeezed Scarlett's shoulders and led her out into the kitchen. Gremory stayed standing in the bathroom with her hands on her hips and held in her temper. The Doctor shut the bathroom doors behind him. Once the two of them were out of hearing range, the Doctor spoke up.

"She is not a demon, or at least, the kind you're speaking of," the Doctor explained.

"What?" Scarlett asked in a pleading tone of voice.

"I don't know how she is poofing to places or showing up to summonings but she is not a spirit. None of these 'spirits' are spirits or ghosts. We proved this back on Saturn! Religion is man-made; it's made up. Angels and demons aren't real. Ghosts aren't real. The supernatural isn't real. They're not just here; they're not a species. There's always a science behind it."

"Even if you're right, Doctor, she seems to think that they are!"

"I think we're going to be here a tad bit longer than we originally planned," the Doctor sighed.

Scarlett rolled her eyes in dismay at the news. The dusty old house was now a new adventure: a very confusing, educational adventure. From inside the bathroom, Gremory's impatient voice could be heard all the way out into the kitchen.

"If you recall, I still have to find my employee. Could you make your conversation short?" she begged.

The Doctor strode over to the cabinet doors and pulled them open. Gremory strutted out of the washroom and walked right past the two of them. She headed straight for the already open front door and paused at its entrance. Turning around, she leaned against the frame.

"Are you two coming or what?" she asked.

"Who is it that we are looking for exactly?" the Doctor questioned.

"His name is Phenex. If I were to guess, he is probably trick-or-treating somewhere."

"We're looking for a child?" Scarlett asked.

"Most likely."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"His demonic form is a phoenix, but I, personally, have never seen him take that form. So if you see a gigantic, fire-like bird flying around, that's him. The chances of that aren't likely if you ask me. It's a bit too obvious for mortals to see a mythical creature flying around. We don't want to blow our cover. It's too precious," Gremory stated.

The three of them headed out the door and shut it behind them. Gremory impatiently strutted out into the street in large strides while Scarlett scurried behind her to try and keep up. The Doctor stayed in the back of the line with his hands in his pockets as he began to pout over Gremory's rude behavior. After they all managed to cross the non-busy road, they began walking up and down Union Street. The further they walked, the more Scarlett began to question her friend's certainty.

"Do you really think Phenex is here? Maybe we could ask some of the neighbors is they had any tricker-treaters yet. I'm not seeing any children!" Scarlett impatiently exclaimed.

The sound of her voice caused a flock of birds of come flying out of a nearby tree. The street is so quiet that even the slightest noise seems loud. Gremory answered Scarlett without stopping to face her. She continued her long, high-heeled strides.

"And do what? Ask if they've seen a demon child? Maybe break a taboo… cause a moral panic?" Gremory asked sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, it was just a suggestion…" Scarlett whimpered.

"Well, it's a stupid suggestion. I couldn't even get into any of these places if I wanted to. There's so many sigils keeping spirits like me out nowadays… it makes me sick."

"Sigils? Who has sigils? I don't have sigils," Scarlett mindlessly rambled.

"You know, people who have random symbols in their homes for decoration. Like people who wear pentagram necklaces to seem like rebels against people who wear Christianity's cross necklaces but don't even know what the pentagram stands for. People draw and decorate with sigils all the time, because they think it looks cool or has some deep meaning behind it but never bothers to research it. I don't think you realize how many people have Babylonian Devil Traps above their doorways. I mean, some mistakenly have sigils that allow demonic entrance but quite a few prevent it. The whole fad disgusts me," Gremory ranted.

Scarlett absorbed every bit of information Gremory was feeding her while the Doctor stayed far enough behind the two of them that he didn't hear a word they were saying to each other. He was too busy concentrating on figuring out the explanation of how Gremory time-traveled. As the women walked down the street, the Doctor held up and stood still. Wide-eyed and hoping that a plausible reason had just crossed his mind, the Doctor shouted to Gremory.

"Gremory!"

The two women turned around to face him. He gestured with his hand for them to walk back to him. Once they approached him, he looked straight at the daemon.

"Were you abducted by aliens?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" Gremory questioned with sass.

"I know you said you blacked out but amuse me. Do you think you were? It might explain the sex change. All the poking and prodding…" the Doctor mumbled.

Gremory whapped him right across the face as she had been incredibly insulted by his questions. As her fury imploded, she began to scream in the Doctor's face about his rude behavior, wallflower personality, etc. Scarlett didn't say a word nor did she have any desire to. Slowly backing away from their trivial, yet inevitable, explosion of a feud, Scarlett continued down the street by herself. Ravens and all sorts of other birds flew over her in a mob as Gremory and the Doctor's voices grew distant to her. They were obviously coming from the direction in which the disagreement was going on. While her friends were having a full out brawl on Nevins Street, Scarlett ventured around the corner to Butler Street. Knowing the Brooklyn area fairly well, she had no worries about wandering alone. Not only did she not find a single person or child out on the streets, but the Comfort Inn didn't appear to have any customers at the moment as well. In fact, the whole neighbor seemed quite. Scarlett wandered behind inn to see if any employees were parked there since she had no desire to head inside and chit-chat with any front desk employees. All of time and space is at her feet yet her desire to socialize with the human race is still extremely limited. When she made it behind the building, there were no cars in sight. Unsure of what she was looking for, she ventured all over the place. A gleam of light came from a bundle of bushes in the neighboring property's yard and it caught her eye. She ran towards the shrubbery to investigate. As she dug through the branches, she could see the exterior of a car's hood.

"A black Chevy! It's even from my time period. Oh my goodness, it's like finding the DeLorean! Thank God the Doctor decided to let me watch that trilogy."

Overjoyed, she was unaware that someone had been sleeping in the car. The sound of her voice startled the man inside, and he accidently smacked the top of his head on the roof of the vehicle when he jumped awake.

"Holy hell, could you keep it down?" the man moaned as he rubbed his aching scalp.

Scarlett's excitement was killed the second she heard the man's voice. As he mouthed the words, the sound of a child's voice came from his lips… but for having such a young sounding voice, it sure did have a strong New Yorker accent to it. Startled and wide-eyed, she couldn't say anything from the shock. However, she did not move from her spot. She remained bent over, looking into the car's interior.

"What are you staring at? Shoo!" he groaned.

Scarlett muttered up the ability to respond.

"Can I take a wild guess and assume your name is Phenex?"

"Who's asking?"

"Scarlett Bathurst."

"Well, Miss Bathurst, as you can see, I am quite busy at the moment and must reschedule our appointment. Good night," the man said as he laid back down in the front seat with his stomach up.

"Is this your car?"

"No," he grumbled with his eyes closed and arms crossed.

"Where did it come from?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you in it then?"

"I was tired and still am."

"Do you realize you're a man with a child's voice?"

"Go away!" he cried. "Stop pestering me!"

"The only way I can get your attention is to annoy you. I can see that it is working quite well."

"What do you want from me, huh?" he questioned as he began to sit up to face her.

"Your friend Gremory is looking for you."

"My friend? No, ma'am, you mean my boss."

"All the same, she is looking for you. How did you get into the car? The driver side window is only partly open. I can't even fit my hand in there."

Phenex chuckled a high-pitch giggle.

"A phoenix isn't as enormous as people think. Birds can only be so big, hun. How do you think I can hide from my boss so easily? I fit in tight places that only a bird can find."

"Gremory told me that you probably wouldn't ever fly around in your demonic form."

"Oh please, she has never seem a phoenix before. She knows what legends say, but I'm as conspicuous as a canary," he laughed.

Scarlett smiled at his more lightened-up attitude.

"I know you'd like some time off, but in all seriousness, you need to get out of the car," Scarlett stated.

"Gremory can kiss my sweet booty. I'm not leaving.''

Scarlett grabbed the driver side's door handle to open the door but the vehicle was locked. When she let go, she took a step back.

"Get out of the car."

"No."

"It's not even your car."

"It sure as hell beats sleeping in a chimney or air-vent."

"Do I have to drag you out myself?"

"Give it your best shot, toots," Phenex smirked as he laid back down on his back.

Phenex thought Scarlett had left for good when she stormed away but she had an idea. Walking into the Comfort Inn, Scarlett asked the nearest employee where she could find the custodian on duty. After 2 flights of stairs, Scarlett confronted the custodian to ask for assistance in borrowing a hammer. Against policy, the employee gave Scarlett a hammer from one of the many supply closets; it may be against the rules, but that's why bribery was invented. Fifty dollars lighter and one hammer heavier, Scarlett headed back outside to the 60's model Chevy. Phenex was startled once again by a loud bang on the driver's window. As he frantically sat up, another clashing sound came from outside the window.

"Holy Mother of God, stop!" Phenex screamed.

Scarlett continued bashing the hammer into the window as it began to crack.

"This isn't even my car!" he pleaded.

"I guess you should've thought of that before!" Scarlett laughed psychotically as she kept swinging the hammer.

With one final blow, the window finally fell apart and glass shattered everywhere.

"Now are you going to come out willingly or am I going into phase two and grabbing you myself?" Scarlett smiled.

With a look of shock on his face, the homeless looking man unlocked the vehicle and stepped out on the driver's side.

"You're insane," he stated.

"You're insane for ruining this perfectly badass car," Scarlett defended.

"Me? I'm not the one holding a tool and making it into a lethal weapon."

"Look. Your boss locked me and my friend out of our car and now we are stuck in this empty, eerie town. She is not letting us leave until we help her find you. Whether you like it or not, you're coming with me," Scarlett told him as she grabbed his arm.

Scarlett began tugging him along with her as she marched down Butler Street. Phenex eventually pulled with arm away but kept walking beside her.

"Fine! Just don't kill me with that hammer, will you?"

"Of course not."

"I'm not too sure. You're manic… did you notice yourself? I've never seen a mortal go from lighthearted to furious to crazy to happy again in such a short time period."

"What is it exactly that you do?" Scarlett politely asked in order to try and ignore his comment.

"I'm a storyteller… like a Renaissance bard. It's pretty plain and simple. I'm a Marquis; I may have twenty legions of demons working for me, but I still have to work for Gremory since she is a Duke."

"No offense, but why would someone what to summon you?"

"Hey! I'm pretty intelligent in the arts and sciences such as poetry."

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you. It's one thing to tell a fairytale but another to inform someone of the beauties of science and poetry. I'd actually be quite interested."

"You would, would you?" Phenex smirked in a very suspicious and malicious way.

"I love anything and everything science!" Scarlett exclaimed, not noticing Phenex's behavior.

"I can give you the talk of your life."

"Perhaps another time. I only have one request of you at the moment. How were you and Gremory summoned?"

"Some sigil that I don't even know. I apologize but I don't even know my own summoning spells. Read the Lesser Key of Solomon. It's like an instruction manual: a phone book. The sigil that call me up tonight was not my personal hotline. It's Tibetan… not even Christianity. When I appeared before it, the conjurer wasn't present to tell me my duties. I'm just kind of stuck wandering around until my boss finds my lazy ass not doing my job. Which doesn't help much since I don't know what the job is… since no one told me!" Phenex ranted.

"She's your boss. I'm sure she knows what you're supposed to be doing."

"You think I'm going out looking for her in order to find out? Hell no. If I'm not doing any work, I'm not excited to go seek any."

"Gee, you are a lazy ass."

Phenex laughed at her honesty.

"Well, who is Gremory working for? If you work for her and she already knows her duty then shouldn't you know?"

"Gremory doesn't have a clue either. She appeared because of the same sigil as me. Technically, she was the one who was summoned. She just dragged me along for any possible assistance. She may be a fortune-teller but I'm the sweet-talker," Phenex grinned. "Besides, a hobo is more relatable and trustworthy to people than an intimidatingly seductive, Islamic woman. I don't need to flirt to get people's attention."

Scarlett kept a smile on her face to look like she was paying attention but the wheels in her head were obviously turning.

"You've got to show my friends and I where this mystery sigil is."

"As long as you keep up," he chuckled.

Confused by his last statement, Scarlett slowly walked beside him as they headed back towards her friends. Phenex wickedly grinned as he kept one eye on Scarlett. He strutted in a carefree manner as he softly began chanting the words of Sir William Shakespeare:

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust."

Scarlett kept her eyes straight as she continued walking beside him.

"I suppose you are the demon of poetry. No one in their right mind would memorize something as complex as that," Scarlett announced.

"Dying folks do," Phenex defended.

"You're morbid," Scarlett grimaced as she looked up at him with antagonism.

"No I am not. Humans finally figure out what is truly beautiful in life when theirs is slowly coming to an end. It's the truth. There's beauty in poetry."

"Life is a tragedy and nothing more," Scarlett stated.

"All that time wasted… to not realize that there's beauty in everything. Yes, it is a tragedy to not see life as a play. Did you know that tragedies are what makes entertainment worth watching? The ancient Greeks knew that right from the start. Tragedies are so entrancing, so mesmerizing! It's a shame no one can appreciate life like they do the theater."

"I don't find it very hypnotic," Scarlett coldly stated.

"Theater?"

"No, life."

"My, my, aren't you the optimistic one? Tragedies are meant to be enjoyed! What is it about this one that makes you miserable?" Phenex asked.

"I fear it."

"Fear what?"

"Boredom."

Phenex couldn't think of a proper response to her answer that could possibly cheer her up. Instead, he brushed off Scarlett as they made their way down the street and continued to whisper:

"Fear no more the frown o' the great;

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

The scepter, learning, physic, must

All follow this, and come to dust."

As they turned the corner onto Nevins Street, Scarlett could see and hear the Doctor and Gremory going at each other down the street.

"There's my friends!" Scarlett pointed out as she stretched her arm out to point at them in the distance.

Scarlett turned around to look and see if Phenex was looking but he wasn't there.

"Damn it! Where did you go?" she screeched in a loud whisper as she angrily spun around in circles.

The beautiful melody of a singing bird fell from the top of an apartment building. Scarlett quickly looked up to see an exotic, red and green quetzal bird swoop down onto the top step of the building. The bird took flight and headed towards then passed the two quarreling friends. Scarlett quickly raced after him and pushed through the middle of the angry couple. As she breathlessly ran by, she yelled:

"Follow me!"

The Doctor and Gremory quit yelling and stared at each other in a confused manner. They quickly did as they were told out of complete curiosity of what Scarlett was up to. The three of them chasing the small bird all the way back to the empty, dusty house. Instead of heading back inside, the bird landed on the ground behind the house. Once the three of them caught up, they quickly noticed the sigil painted behind the back wall of the house.

"I'm not really used to having a backyard, so I never even thought to look!" Scarlett embarrassingly admitted as she bent over and clutched her knees to catch her breath.

"What are you talking about?" Gremory asked.

"I found Phenex. He led me to where you two were summoned."

"You found him? Where is he?"

"You're looking at him."

Gremory looked down at the pitiful, little bird that appeared to have a messy batch of hair.

"You're pathetic," Gremory said to Phenex.

Phenex ruffled his feathers in anger.

"What is this symbol?" the Doctor asked as he analyzed it more closely. "The T.A.R.D.I.S. doesn't recognize it as any sort of known language."

"I haven't a clue," Gremory confessed. "I was summoned by the sigil but there was no conjurer in sight. I dragged Phenex with me for the mission so we both venture off to go look for the guy… or girl. While we were out looking, Phenex up and decided to bail. While I was searching the neighbor's house, I heard you two next door over here bickering away. Aside from the heartfelt reunion, I genuinely needed the help."

Phenex lifted himself from the ground and flew over to perch onto of Gremory's left shoulder. Whispering something into her ear, Gremory's face lit up.

"Oh, now I see." Gremory grinned as she eyeballed Scarlett.

Scarlett waited for what she was about to say next. Gremory gestured Scarlett to approach her with her pointer finger.

"Come here, honey." Gremory smirked in a rather malevolent way.

Scarlett sped-walked over to her friend while the Doctor stood where he was. Face to face with Scarlett, Gremory began to whisper to her.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, hon, but I don't have the patience for this bullshit." Gremory angrily scolded her at an almost inaudible volume.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Scarlett whispered back.

"You conjure me up here to this God-forsaken dump of a town and have me chasin' my tail like a futile mortal. If you want something then just ask for it; don't go running off and leaving me to find you. I ain't playin' hide-and-seek no more."

"I didn't draw that!" Scarlett shouted as she pointed at the altar.

The Doctor started walking over to where the girls were to see what the commotion was about.

"I can guarantee that myself," the Doctor spoke up. "That must've been here since before we showed up."

Gremory put her hands on her hips in frustration while Phenex squawked above her shoulder.

"Drawn by you or not, Phenex here can only obey its conjuror. You're the only one who has seen his true form; he informed me about it. Just tell me what you want. I've got other job requests. Get move on, girl. I ain't got all night," Gremory complained.

Scarlett didn't appreciate the sass and negativity she was getting from her friend… or at least, ex-friend. Holding back the urge to let her temper loose, she held her tongue and crossed her arms over her chest.

"We found your friend. Just get the T.A.R.D.I.S. door open," she grumbled under her breath.

The Doctor looked over at his companion and a smile came across his face as he admired her calmness.

"Fine," the demon snapped as she strutted around to the front of the house.

Once the two demons were inside of the house, Scarlett began pacing outside in a confined rage.

"What's his deal?" she snarled.

"You mean 'her'," the Doctor corrected.

"Oh, shut up! I don't understand her issue. We've been nothing but kind to her and this is the treatment we deserve? She can't still be upset about Saturn."

"She probably is; we did sort of leave him stranded there."

"Oh, brother. You can't be serious. I didn't get excited to see her tonight just for her to smite me for not being his frat buddy on bloody Mars," Scarlett shouted as she impatiently started stomping toward the front of the house.

"It was Saturn…" the Doctor mumbled to himself as he slowly followed behind his temperamental companion.

Scarlett made it to the front yard as she continued bellowing as her rage increased.

"Just because I didn't stick around to watch Zeus slit his father's stomach open doesn't give you the right to be a colossal bitch!" Scarlett thundered as she plowed through the front door.

The last word of Scarlett's wrath trailed through the vacant, hollow room of the abandoned home. To her surprise, the T.A.R.D.I.S. was no longer there. Furious, she stormed into the room and began pacing in the machine's empty spot. Once the Doctor finally made it through the door, he immediately realized what had happened.

"Stupid, stupid, thick-headed, old me!" the Doctor nagged as he smacked himself in the head.

"Yes, how ignorant of us to have just let them come in here and open the door by themselves! We should've known better."

"No, no. That's not it," the Doctor explained. "She saw herself on Saturn before she arrived here. The foreshadowing of this happening was incredible. How the hell did I miss that?"

"What?" Scarlett asked, still flustered by the whole situation.

Before the Doctor had a chance to open his mouth to explain, the T.A.R.D.I.S. began to land in the hidden bathroom. Both the Doctor and Scarlett looked at each other in awe and ran over to the ship. Still unable to open the door, the Doctor pulled and tugged on the handles. Scarlett had joined in as well as they tried to budge open the seemingly locked doors. Once they both gave up, one of the doors began to slowly creak open and the bird form of Phenex flew out.

"I suppose you can only unlock it from the inside," Scarlett laughed.

Annoyed by her immediate change in mood and attitude, the Doctor stepped into his machine and stood along the doorframe as he waited for his friend to follow.

"Where's Gremory?" Scarlett asked.

"Not here. Come one, let's go," the Doctor ordered crossly.

His attitude mimicked that of Scarlett's previous behavior while Scarlett was now the carefree one.

"Once moment, please?" Scarlett asked the Doctor politely.

He raised one of his eyebrows in an aggravated manner as he waited for her response as to why he must wait for her.

"I'd like to take a moment to say good-bye."

The Doctor simply took a step back and shut the T.A.R.D.I.S. door. Since the machine did not disappear right before her very eyes, she assumed that he was willing to wait for her. As she stood watching the door shut in her face, she heard, not the tweeting of a bird, but the mumbling of a demon behind her:

"Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan:

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust."

Scarlett turned around to face her new friend with a smile as she was delighted to see his human face one last time.

"Hey, before you go, I want to apologize," Phenex spoke as he morphed back into his human form.

"For what?"

"For turning into my demonic form so unexpectedly like that."

"Well, I was meaning to scold you about that," Scarlett smiled.

"The conjurer must have companions around when I'm summoned. It's not wise to do it alone, but your friends weren't allowed to hear my voice or see my human form. Only the conjurer can see my mortal form and hear my voice. As soon as your friends were in hearing and seeing range, I'm afraid I had no choice but to morph."

"That… that actually makes sense. If you would've told me that much earlier tonight, I wouldn't have believed that I was the conjurer."

"There's a lot you wouldn't believe if I told you," Phenex said in a snide manner.

Scarlett didn't catch onto his suspicious comment. They shook each other's hand as a gesture of farewell before Phenex turned around to head out the door. His enthralling incantation could be heard as he faded down into the distance of the road before him:

"No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have;

And renownèd be thy grave!"

Scarlett knocked on the door of the T.A.R.D.I.S., knowing that the doors would still be somehow locked from the outside. The Doctor peeked his head out the door and looked around for Phenex. Once he didn't see his presence, he took a single step outside of the door and kept one hand on the inside to make sure it didn't shut him out.

"So," Scarlett grinned as she playfully crossed her arms, "do we have to go find Gremory now?"

"She is no longer with us," the Doctor coldly stated.

"Excuse me, what?" Scarlett asked as her smile began to slowly fade.

"I'm afraid you won't be seeing your friend anymore. Not now, not ever. No more surprises."

Scarlett's arms sunk to her sides and the look on her face was now that of remorse.

"By sending Gremory into the future to meet himself, we caused a paradox," the Doctor began to explain as he started at the ground, unable to look Scarlett in the eyes. "Yes, I knew it'd kill Gamori. In my defense, that was the only way we could destroy the Tulpa. Gamori existed years in the future on Saturn. He… er, she also existed years in the past on Earth. By sending her to the future and directing Gamori towards his future as Gremory, it allowed him to exist in the past as Gremory in the first place. However, if we went back there now, Gremory would be gone. She never existed. Well, she existed before we sent her to the future but not now."

"How come neither of them exist now?"

"Gamori touched Gremory. He snatched her arm, remember? Two versions of yourself in the same timeframe is the definition of a paradox. And to touch yourself? Oh, boy. Gremory only exists because of Gamori. He touches her, he blacks out, and he becomes her. Once Gamori became Gremory, we took her away in my T.A.R.D.I.S. and placed her on Saturn with her past self. He should've never made physical contact with her. Because of that, they are both gone. The touch destroyed her existence. They collided… that should never had happened. Only one can exist at a time. That's how time works, my dear. It always has been and always will."

"But how did Gremory come to be in the first place? How did she… begin?"

"Ah! Now you're asking the right questions! The tulpa, my dear! The tulpa!"

"You had Gamori on your mind, my dear. I must admit, your mental discipline is phenomenal. You somehow channeled all your energy into the memory of Gamori that you made him into a thoughtform! A real, physical phantom! In this case, he came back as a demon."

The Doctor analyzed her friend for one silent and confused moment.

"Are you a Satanist? Should I be concerned?" the Doctor replied in a somewhat sarcastic tone and speed of voice. "I think I should be if you are. I mean, I've met them all before. Sutekh the Destroyer, Hades, the whole Neoclassic Congregational visit… I've met so many Satans that it would make your head spin. If you're into the malevolent actions of mankind and their influence on others, I question our friendship."

The Doctor half smiled as he waited for an answer. He was meant to be joking but a voice in the back of his head hesitated for her answer which might not be exactly was he expected.

"Of course I'm not, Doctor," she stated before she took a moment to pause. "If I made her into a supernatural being… then was all she said about angels and demons not true?"

"Precisely. That's all a bunch of hogwash. Unless, of course, we find the real deal someday. You never know what else there is to discover," he said.

The Doctor let out a deep sigh of relief and completed his full-face smile. However, now that the Doctor's mind was clear, Scarlett's eyes widened as she thought of a question about Gremory.

"Why in the world was he a woman then?" she screamed.

The Doctor took a hesitant step back as he absorbed the tone of her voice.

"You're more concerned about his gender than his demonic figure?"

Scarlett's eyebrows drew close together in a scowl.

"Well," he said cautiously and analytically. "You're not exactly was I'd call sexually liberated, or at least, not that I've observed since I've known you. In fact, if my judgment is at all accurate, I'd say you were a tad bit asexual, if I didn't know any better. Maybe you are a lesbian. You just aren't consciously aware of it yet."

"Oh God, Doctor, must you say things like that? Disgusting!"

"Don't be appalled!" he protested as his hesitant attitude began to fade. "There's nothing gross about that at all. In fact, Jenny Flint and Madame Vastra seem quite…"

"Please shut up, now. I don't want to hear about it."

Amused by her annoyance, he opened his mouth to say something again but Scarlett lifted her finger with a gesture to signalize silence. The aggravated look on her face was enough for the Doctor to get the picture. Cackling at her frustration, the Doctor had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. The calmer he got, the more his smile began to diminish.

"I don't think whether he was male or female seems to be very important."

"Oh, and the reason for him being a demon is?" she protested.

"I suppose not…" the Doctor sighed.

"I don't really have an answer for you anyway. It's Halloween… what else am I going to think about?" she breathed.

"I forgot how much you loved this holiday. That must be why."

"I guess," Scarlett shrugged as she tried to push aside the conversation.

The Doctor and Scarlett began to step back to the T.A.R.D.I.S.

"Doctor?"

"Dear God, what is it now?"

"If the paradox allowed Gremory and Gamori to not exist anymore… then how does that get rid of the Tulpa?"

"What do you mean? She never existed for you to remember which makes the Tulpa not affective… so it disappeared."

"That makes no sense. She may not exist now but I still remember her. Gamori is still a memory in my head. With the help of the Tulpa, if I can think it, then it can become reality… even if he is just a memory. He's a thought. The demolition of their physical existence may have erased everyone else's memories of him but not mine! I'm a time-traveler. You told me yourself that this kind of thing will happen."

The Doctor paused for a moment to ponder what he was hearing.

"I bet you right now that if I drew up another Tulpa, she would come back despite her nonexistence. She's an idea now. I can make her come back."

The Doctor stood in shock as he understood her logic.

"You're quite right! How could I have missed that? If this is true… then why isn't the Tulpa here anymore?" the Doctor whimpered in a confused whimper.

"Someone must've destroyed the sigil. That was supposed to work in the first place, no thanks to you."

"Sue me for not carrying around a blowtorch or an axe!" the Doctor snapped.

"Did you even bother to look and see if the Tulpa was still there?"

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"You're so sure of yourself that you didn't even bother to check? God, you are so full of yourself!"

The Doctor and Scarlett went back to where the sigil was once displayed.

"You're right, it's gone, but it's not because it just vanished into thin air like it was supposed to. The wall is completely scratched up! The wood is ruined and the remaining paint shavings are all over the ground. It's like an animal clawed it or something." Scarlett contemplated.

Ashamed of himself, the Doctor scowled as he pondered the condition of the wall as well.

"I told you that someone destroyed it!" Scarlett bragged.

"Oh please, Scarlett, use your brain. Who in their right mind would have the slightest knowledge of Tibetan Tulpas and know of the presence of one of its malevolent conjurings being here tonight. No one, that's who," the Doctor bickered.

"Never mind that now, Doctor," Scarlett sighed. "Let's get going."

"I don't like not knowing," the Doctor pouted.

Walking back towards the T.A.R.D.I.S., Scarlett suddenly remembered something she had forgotten about. Once the two of them made it back to the ship, Scarlett tugged on the Doctor's sleeve.

"You go on ahead. I have to tell Phenex about this! I feel like he has the right to know. Please! Just don't drive off without me," Scarlett explained.

"Fine," the Doctor replied while unlocking the door, "just hurry up."

Of course, Scarlett wasn't actually going to try and catch up with him. In fact, she didn't intend to go tell him anything at all. She wanted to go check on the real reason behind their getting stuck there. Scarlett ran back to the motel to find the DeLorean-like Chevy that was still hidden in the underbrush. Knowing now that Gremory was not a temporal shift but a memory made real, Scarlett knew that the Marty McFly car was the reason for the T.A.R.D.I.S's stubborn behavior that day. Although the urge to find an explanation was overwhelming, she knew that she must let it go. The Tulpa incident is forever over now and Scarlett was tired. She had lost the life of a friend and just wanted the day to be through.

I'm sure an abandoned car rotting underneath the underbrush isn't much of a threat. Wrong time period? Well, Mr. Chevy, so am I. At least we have that in common.

Scarlett brooded as she slowly dragged herself back to the T.A.R.D.I.S. The Doctor grinned while he fiddled mindlessly with the nobs and gadgets on his consul as she knocked on the door. The Doctor excitedly ran to the door and opened it so that she could greet his bright, smiling face. He knew that he was getting on her nerves, and it was ever so delightful to him. To entertain his amusement, he kept going:

"There's nothing wrong with transsexuals," he mumbled beneath his breath.

Scarlett shoved past him at the doorway and began to stomp up a set of T.A.R.D.I.S. stairs to escape her menacing friend and his bothersome, giddy behavior. She was morally crushed by the events of the day but the Doctor continued to try and change her attitude nonetheless. At the moment, all she needed was time. The Doctor wasn't giving her any as he tried to brush off the events of the day as nothing meaningful or scarring. What was important to Scarlett did not seem important to him. For this reason, she was hurt by his behavior.

"Or maybe you're bisexual!" he shouted with a triumphant grin.

"Stop!" she pouted as she tried to scurry away towards her bedroom.

"Transvestites are all the rage. I've never had one in my ship before!" he jokingly bellowed.

As his voice faded, the remaining vibrations from the ringing of his voice filled with vacant air of the T.A.R.D.I.S., leaving the Doctor dispiritingly aware that he was now alone in his home.

As the T.A.R.D.I.S. began to vanish into the thin air of the peacefully, lonely house, the deadly and spine-chilling silence of the neighborhood was disrupted by the distant, bellowing rage of a deep-voiced man that arose from the Comfort Inn parking lot. It was not the voice of a supernatural-being but that of a human male:

"Sonofabitch!"


	11. Episode 10

**Episode 10:**

**Elementary, My Dear Doctor**

The T.A.R.D.I.S. didn't want to land like normal, or at least, Scarlett assumed so. It felt like she was forcing herself to land somewhere that she knew she wasn't supposed to be.

"Old girl, you didn't have to land here," the Doctor mumbled as he stroked his consul. "You have such a range and you decide to land somewhere that doesn't want you…"

Scarlett appeared from a hallway and ran across the control room towards the door.

"Well," she said as she slammed her body against the wooden doors. "Let's find out where we are!"

The Doctor looked the data screen at the consul.

"June 20th, 2011. London, England. Why do I always end up here? I pick up an American for once as a companion, and I still end up in England," he muffled.

"Maybe we should just pop somewhere else. She obviously doesn't want to be here," the Doctor scratched his head.

"Don't say that! I need a break from all our accidental, extraterrestrial calamities. I've never been to England before. I've always wanted to try some coddle."

"Coddle?"

"Yes, it's some kind of slang for soup."

"Coddle is Irish, my dear, not British."

"Oh… well, I'll just try some of their famous tea then."

"They don't have famous tea; they're just known for drinking it."

"Stop trying to spoil my fun, Doctor," Scarlett moaned.

The Doctor grinned at her obliviousness.

Both of them were still inside the machine when they heard a blast of gunfire outside. The Doctor ran to open the door before Scarlett could register what she heard or decipher where it came from. The T.A.R.D.I.S. doors were swung open in half a second, and the Doctor jumped outside to investigate. If Scarlett didn't know any better, in her state of shock, she could've sworn that the look in the Doctor's eyes was that of sorrow… not excitement. In the café across the street, there was a dead man's body at a window seat of a restaurant that had a bullet hole through his head.

The Doctor and Scarlett stood outside the café window and were looking inside with their arms crossed. In appearance, they mimicked each other.

"I've been with you, what? Three years, going by my timeline. And in all that time, I've never seen you deal with real-life problems like this," Scarlett stated.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and gave her a puzzled look. If Scarlett would've made eye contact with him, it would have been obvious that he was insulted by her remark.

"Real-life problems? We've saved entire planets from extinction caused by monsters, enemies, and even themselves, and you don't believe I've dealt with 'real-life problems'? Please, Scarlett. I thought you've gained a better sense of importance from your years with me," the Doctor scolded.

"Oh, Doctor, you know what I mean," Scarlett groaned as she began to feel affronted too. "We've dealt with large scale problems but not everyday earth ones. Murder, robbery, sexual assault… all those types of human problems," she pointed out.

The Doctor and Scarlett both heard sirens approaching before the Doctor could defend himself. The sirens gave them an excuse to change the subject, and that's exactly what he was hoping for.

"That's what the police are for," the Doctor argued. "You humans can take care of yourselves… well, to an extent."

Scarlett knew the Doctor wasn't one to get involved in such personal matters. That would explain why he doesn't do house calls too often; unless they involved aliens, of course. But then again, everything involved aliens, as Scarlett is beginning to learn. The Doctor and Scarlett were still looking in the window when they heard some car doors slam behind them. The police and other emergency services had arrived at the scene. Both of them stepped away from the window and went to the other side of the street. The two of them watched the police do their job and they stood on the opposite sidewalk, directly across from the café. The Doctor started to walk away, and as usual, Scarlett followed. They only got about five steps down the street when they heard someone speak to them.

"Um, would you happen to have seen what happened here?"

The two of them turned around to see a grey-haired man looking straight at them. He was patiently waiting for an answer. He stuck out his hand to the Doctor.

"D.I. Lestrade, detective inspector," he said.

The Doctor shook his hand to reply.

"John Smith. No, my friend, Scarlett, and I were walking down the street when we heard gunfire from this direction. We quickly rushed over to see what had happened. We didn't see a thing but the body in the window. I'm sorry, detective inspector."

"Thanks all the same. Unfortunately, we haven't much to go on at the moment. Apparently, no one has seen the murderer flee the scene, the angle from which the victim was shot is impossible with the impact wound and his sitting position… Oh God, I didn't mean to slur all that out loud in front of you. I've been having a pretty shit day; it kind of just slipped out. If you two know what's good for you, don't speak a word of that until we actually know what we're dealing with," Lestrade commanded.

"That's alright," the Doctor laughed, "I must just have a friendly face. People tend to do that more often than not. Secret's safe with us, detective inspector."

"Good," sighed Lestrade, "by the excessive lack of evidence, this case might have to be a job for Sherlock Holmes. Quite frankly, Anderson, on forensics, doesn't have a clue. But then again, he normally doesn't…"

Scarlett giggled.

"What?" Lestrade asked.

The Doctor was smiling along with his friend.

"That was a good one," she chuckled.

"…what was?" Lestrade questioned.

Going by the tension that was forming on his face, he was getting a tad bit irritated.

"Your joke! Sherlock Holmes… world's greatest detective… going to solve your crime for you. It was funny," she laughed, but her smile started fading the longer she stared at his face.

Lestrade had a tangled expression that made it clear to Scarlett that he was unamused. In fact, he was genuinely, but angrily, curious.

"You know him, ma'am? Look if you're insulting Scotland Yard's metropolitan police force's ability to do their job, I'll have to…"

"Um, I know him through his books," Scarlett mumbled as she defended himself.

Her smile was completely gone now. She wasn't quite sure what his problem was.

He obviously didn't get his own joke.

"What?" Lestrade practically shouted, "When the hell did he start writing books? I know he's got his own blog, but nobody reads that other than himself, the conceited bastard. Who would want to read an analysis on 243 types of tobacco ash is beyond me. Oh, wait. You're a fan of John's blog, aren't you? I knew it."

Scarlett was lost by this point. He may have made a joke earlier, but he wasn't very funny now. The Doctor also realized that Lestrade was acting a little strange. He took ahold of Scarlett's shoulder to let her know that she isn't the only one confused by his behavior. The Doctor chuckled above Scarlett as he gripped her shoulder tighter.

"She hasn't been herself lately, seeing a dead body and all. She's a bit dehydrated. We'll go sit on that bench beside the café if you need to ask us any more questions regarding the scene. We'll wait for your 'okay' to leave."

And with that said, the Doctor pulled Scarlett beside him as they walked toward the bench. Lestrade simply nodded and kept his eyes on them the whole time that they crossed the street. The two of them may have thought the detective inspector was acting odd, but they certainly seemed odd to him.

As they were beginning to sit down, Scarlett looked back at the detective inspector.

"He must be working some major overtime. I don't think he was kidding when he said he was having a 'shit day', she whispered. "He doesn't even get his own jokes."

The Doctor sat on the bench with his arm around Scarlett. He didn't say anything. He just stared at Lestrade in deep thought while he squinted his eyes.

"Doctor?" Scarlett asked.

He didn't move a muscle. She didn't think he was listening to her.

"Doctor!" she cried, getting irritated with him.

"I think you're missing the obvious," he said under his breath.

His eyes were still locked on the detective inspector as Scarlett became insulted by his comment.

"I didn't know I was supposed to be looking for anything," Scarlett snapped.

"Get your head out of your arse and think about it," the Doctor whispered. "The inspector's name, Scarlett. What is it?"

"Lestrade," she replied.

Stilling keeping his eyes on him, the Doctor continued.

"Isn't it a bit odd that a man named Lestrade, who just happens to be an inspector, doesn't understand a Sherlock Holmes joke? I mean, that is a bit ironic."

"A coincidence," Scarlett shrugged. "There's probably lots of men named Lestrade, and I'm sure not everyone has read the books."

"Scarlett," the Doctor irritably grumbled as he cocked his head to look at her in a vexed manner. "Everyone knows who Sherlock Holmes is without ever even touching one of those books."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. She's never impressed by his continual ability to point out the obvious.

"I think you're making a mountain out of a mole hill…" she sighed.

"I don't know about me," the Doctor protested. "But I think Lestrade might be."

Scarlett joined in with the Doctor and stared at Lestrade. He was standing outside of the crime scene while talking with some of his officers. By his gestures, the Doctor and Scarlett could tell that he was talking about them.

"I don't think he likes you," the Doctor told her. "You were acting pretty suspicious earlier."

"He was the one acting weird," Scarlett defended herself as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Maybe you should stop looking so pouty," the Doctor recommended.

"Maybe you should stop looking into things so much. It's crime scene for Pete's sake. Instead of wondering who shot the man, you're curious about an inspector's name. It's a tragedy and nothing else. Why did we stay? Look, let's just go back to the T.A.R.D.I.S. and go somewhere else. We're just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Scarlett scolded him.

The Doctor, still never breaking eye contact with Lestrade, continued with an unexpected grin.

"I like a coincidence."

Scarlett merely huffed and tried to sit patiently. She didn't really have much more to say to him.

About a half hour passed and they were still sitting on the bench. Scarlett was about ready to rip out her hair if she had to sit there in silence any longer. She wasn't used to being this bored with the Doctor. The only thing that kept her irritability under control was the thought of wandering around Saturn's fog for hours on end; there's no comparison. As they waited beside the café, people arrived to and from the scene of the crime. The two of them weren't really paying attention anymore, well, at least Scarlett wasn't. If she wasn't allowed to get involved, she didn't care. The Doctor must though, or else he wouldn't have made her sit on a bench with him for half an hour. He was still watching the scene like a hawk.

Suddenly, both of them heard a man shouting inside the café. The Doctor and Scarlett's heads immediately turned, at the same time, towards the sound of the deep, intimidating voice.

"The victim doesn't matter! Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. There is nothing enigmatic about the man! Firmly built, late 30's, bachelor, desk job but hasn't been employed as of late, and stays astoundingly fit for a man who watches an excessive amount of reruns of soap operas. Other than being a highly emotional gent, there's not much else that's substantial about his charisma; certainly not enough motives to be a murder victim. The bullet emanated from behind the bar, since it propelled through the back of his crown, and he advanced onto the table. It must have been a small handgun, shot at a fairly short range, since it didn't make it the entire way through his crown and into the glass. There is a puddle behind the bar area. A puddle!" the man's voice rose as his irritation built. "Unfortunately, that's all I've got to go on, and it has to be analyzed at Bart's first to make sure the bartender didn't just spill tap water or something of that kind. That's all I have right now. The victim is inconsequential! If you didn't want my deductions, Lestrade, then you shouldn't have called me," the man ranted.

"Well," the detective inspector defended, "if I would've known all you'd find was a useless puddle of probably someone's piss, I wouldn't have called you. I was hoping for something more useful, like a motive or something. Don't get your head in a tizzy; I'll make sure the body is identified at St. Bart's Hospital. I guess my crew and I could've handled it ourselves…"

After all the yelling was over inside the café, the Doctor and Scarlett saw a thin man in a black Belstaff coat and blue scarf storm out of the café. A shorter man followed right behind him, shaking his head. "Wait!" Lestrade shouted as he came out the door. The Doctor and Scarlett saw him pointing at them as he spoke to the two men. The two of them stood up from the bench as the three men approached them. Lestrade spoke first.

"This lady's name is Scarlett Bathurst and this man is…"

"John Smith," the Doctor lied as he interrupted the inspector.

Lestrade continued as he glared at the Doctor. Interrupting him, obviously, isn't the best way to get on his good side.

"This is Sherlock Holmes and his friend, John Watson."

"Colleague," Watson corrected.

Scarlett and the Doctor looked at each other, wide-eyed. Scarlett, in all honesty, was baffled. She thought it was best not to say anything at the moment; mainly because she didn't know what to say.

"Well?" Lestrade questioned Mr. Holmes.

"They're at the wrong place at the wrong time. You folks are free to go," Mr. Holmes said as he started to walk away.

This was actually starting to get interesting, and Scarlett wasn't going to let them get away now. Besides, she was taken by surprise that the gaunt gentleman was the one with the prosperous voice that they heard. Scarlett had her hands behind her back as she skipped, playfully, behind Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson. She tapped him on the shoulder and Mr. Holmes turned around. Not preparing her actions or words at all, she thought of something to say at the last second.

"Why is your name Sherlock Holmes?" she asked as innocently as possible.

"Why is your name Scarlett Bathurst?" he counter argued.

Not saying anything, he turned around again to walk away. As the two of them went to the end of the sidewalk to grab a taxi, Scarlett beckoned the Doctor to follow her. She approached the two men again. Lestrade went back to the crime scene as confused and suspicious of Scarlett as ever.

"Mr. Holmes," Scarlett persisted, "It's not polite to answer a question with a question. I plan on getting an answer."

"So do I," Mr. Holmes solemnly replied.

He rolled his eyes as the taxi drove up. His colleague took notice of his rude behavior towards Ms. Bathurst and smiled at her to make her feel less offended. Just because his colleague is an ass, doesn't mean he is too.

"Goodbye," Watson smiled as they got into the vehicle. As the taxi headed down the road, Scarlett and the Doctor stood on the sidewalk. They were staring at the taxi until it drove out of sight before they spoke to each other about what they just witnessed.

"I'm confused," Scarlett stated.

"Me too," the Doctor sighed.

The Doctor started to walk away without Scarlett even noticing. He got a couple feet before she looked over and realized he was leaving.

"Um, Doctor," she spoke as she caught up to him, "the T.A.R.D.I.S. is the other direction."

"What do we need her for?" the Doctor asked. "We need to stay here and investigate. The game is afoot!"

"Doctor, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Scarlett eagerly asked.

Her attitude immediately became less irritated and more excited.

"Yes, Scarlett, my dear. There's something going on here, and we're going to figure out what it is," the Doctor proclaimed.

"Doctor, I never thought you'd be that interested in a murder case."

"I'm not," he defended himself, "I'm interested in a man who goes by the name of Sherlock Holmes. Come on, Scarlett. Don't tell me you're not wildly curious. I was curious about Lestrade's name earlier, and you told me that that wasn't anything to get interested in. You, however, asked Mr. Holmes about his name. You're a hypocrite, Miss Bathurst. You're interested in him, and you cannot tell me otherwise," the Doctor proudly stated.

Scarlett smiled and rolled her eyes at him.

"I told Mr. Holmes that I planned on getting an answer, and I intend to. But, Doctor… I have no choice but to be interested. There's no such real man as Sherlock Holmes. He's fictional. This man claiming to be him must've either had some fanatic crime novel parents or he's just as passionate about the books as I am. Shouldn't we go back into the T.A.R.D.I.S. in order to figure all that out?"

"I'd like to find out the old fashioned way," the Doctor replied. "We should just ask him."

"But Doctor," Scarlett pleaded. "We don't know where Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson went!"

"Oh," the Doctor exclaimed as he stopped walking. "How did you know John Watson was a doctor? Did you just assume so, because John Watson in the books is a doctor? You're letting your assumptions become reality. You don't want to do that, Scarlett. I'm not certain who these men are, but don't just guess! Let's go have a chat with them."

"Doctor," Scarlett asked. "How do you expect to do that, exactly? Follow that taxi?"

"No need!" the Doctor happily shouted. "We're going to find Sherlock Holmes. There's only one place he'll be."

It took a couple seconds for Scarlett to process what he was saying.

"You can't be serious," Scarlett moaned. "The apartments at Baker Street don't go all the way up to 221… Conan Doyle made up that address."

The Doctor kept the same smirk on his face as he continued walking, not saying a word. Scarlett knew better. Everything has been a coincidence so far, so there must be a logical reason behind it all. Scarlett merely thought to herself as she walked along with the Doctor, wherever he was headed. The detective inspector just happens to have the same name and job as Lestrade does from the stories. He called two men to help investigate the crime scene… they must work for the police. John Watson is a rather plain name. It's possible to have a Watson named John. But Sherlock… that's a unique, one-of-a-kind name. Again, fanatic parents could've named their kid after the detective. Maybe he's the fanatic and changed his legal name. Maybe he's mentally ill and believes himself to be the fictional detective! Maybe these reason are just too exaggerated. For all anyone knows, they could just be nicknames. They could be so good at their jobs that the police gave them those nicknames. Any of these could be the answer. The Doctor and Scarlett were about to find out. The Doctor stopped in front of a dark, blue door on Baker Street. Scarlett stood in awe and disbelief beside him.

"Impossible," she whispered.

"I know," the Doctor responded.

Despite all of Scarlett's logical theories, she could not deny the fact that was right in front of her. The Doctor and Scarlett stood outside of 221B of Baker Street.


	12. Episode 11

**Episode 11:**

**There's No 'I' in 'Truth'**

The Doctor knocked on the door using the crooked knocker. A little, old woman opened the door. She was the first one to speak before the Doctor and Scarlett had a chance to introduce themselves.

"Hello, dearies, is there something I can do for you?" she asked sweetly.

The Doctor smiled and kissed her hand; she blushed. Scarlett rolled her eyes. He's such an aristocrat; Scarlett found his flattery techniques quite shameful for an alien of his age.

"Yes, ma'am. Is this where a Mr. Holmes and Watson reside?" he asked.

"Upstairs, first door at the top of the second flight. If you're here as clients, I suppose you'll be here a little while," she winked. "I'll fetch you all a fresh batch of biscuits and tea."

"Thank you, ma'am. That would be lovely," the Doctor beamed.

The woman headed towards her kitchen rather cheerfully. As Scarlett and the Doctor ascended up the stairs, she punched him in the arm. He let out a giggle as he rubbed his battered arm.

The two of them made it to the top of the stairs to find Mr. Holmes' door wide open. Watson was sitting in a red chair, facing away from the door. He didn't turn around until he realized that Sherlock was looking up from his laptop to stare at the doorway. Scarlett thought that it was unusual that the Doctor didn't say any greeting to let them know they were standing there. He just stood outside in the hallway with her while staring back at Mr. Holmes.

"Oh!" Watson bellowed in a delightful way. "Mr. Smith and Miss Bathurst, right? Come on in."

Scarlett hit it off with Watson. She liked him; he was rather nice and smiled all the time. It may not be genuine, but at least he tried to act polite. Sherlock, on the other hand, didn't even bother to rise when they walked into their flat. Scarlett approached Watson and stood near the fireplace. Where she was standing, she was behind Sherlock, who was still sitting with his laptop. He was at a table that's located between the flat's two living room windows. He kept his eyes locked on the Doctor as the Doctor stayed near the doorway. Scarlett didn't think Sherlock acknowledged her presence at first. Rome; that's what Scarlett saw on his laptop. She was finally starting to get that rush again; she wanted to notice everything. There were so many questions that she wanted answers to. A new one arose in her mind.

Why was Sherlock researching Italy?

She could feel that sense of empowerment coming over her again in that very moment; the feeling she gets when she's alone with the Doctor. It was starting to feel like every unanswered question was the answer.

Knowing that she was a part of what made up infinity felt bittersweet. She could see the proof of infinity with the Doctor and the everlasting adventures they share. Scarlett wasn't prone to taking note of the smallest details anymore. That was a thing of the past. She's been able to see the whole picture, since she's been with him. Her ambiguity towards the meaning of existence overshadowed the importance of the little details. But, she wasn't in the T.A.R.D.I.S. right now. She wasn't at the beginning of time itself. She wasn't on a moon that orbited a planet inside a galaxy at the corner of a universe that stretched endlessly into infinity. She was on her home planet, where she previously formed her own definition of what it meant to be alive and exist. That was back when she painted the picture, not speculated it. The worst part is, her personal life had just been affected. Some guy, only about 30 some odd years in her future, comes along claiming to be her childhood idol; a fictional character who was her reason for living. That character was her definition of existence and the way to love a boring life. She is insulted and sees this a form of mockery. These guys are suspicious, even if it turns out not to be a big deal. Scarlett's determined to get to the bottom of it all. It all starts by taking the small details into account; even details as trivial as stalking Sherlock's internet history. The only way to find out the truth is to observe. The only way to solve the case is to be Sherlock Holmes.

Scarlett stayed by the fireplace while the Doctor took a seat at the table by Sherlock. He closed out of the internet tab that he had open. There were too many people coming in and making themselves comfortable; too comfortable for Sherlock's taste. It was alright, most of the time, if John knew what he was researching for a case but no other people were allowed. Their cases are confidential.

"Can we help you two with something?" Watson asked as he headed back to his chair.

"Just curious about the murder, that's all. The police seemed pretty stumped, but they call you two in. What're your positions on the force? Forensics, perhaps?" the Doctor slyly asked.

He already predicted what Sherlock would say, same as Scarlett did.

"Good God, no. I don't associate myself with Scotland Yard. I'm a consulting detective. I made up the job myself," Sherlock stated, not looking up from the laptop. Playing along, the Doctor asked, "Oh, I've never heard of that before. Only one in the world?"

"Affirmative," Watson chimed in.

The Doctor patted a seat beside him to signal Scarlett to sit down. She did as she was commanded. Sherlock was silently observing her now, and she was observing him. They both knew they were watching each other, and it was uncomfortable.

"Doc…er, Smith. Do you have a theory? Regarding the case, that is." Scarlett asked as she looked at the Doctor.

She wasn't really talking about the murder, of course. She was suggesting a theory regarding her first question to Sherlock back at the crime scene. The Doctor knew what she was signifying. He got the innuendo.

"Don't think of it as a cause-and-effect relationship. We don't know what the cause is," the Doctor replied.

"But John, there was no reason for the cause. That's all the more of a reason to think of it in that way! There has to be a cause. But there's none!" she complained.

"There's a reason for everything," the Doctor stated seriously.

"Um," Watson interrupted, "are you two here for a reason? I don't mean to be rude, but… do you acquire our assistance or…?"

"Visiting!" the Doctor shouted as he lightened up immediately. "We were there at such a tragic moment, we just want to be as useful as we can."

Scarlett nodded her head in agreement with her friend. Sherlock could see how fake they looked but still continued to say nothing.

Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs with a tray of tea and biscuits.

"I'm sorry, loves, but I'm out of milk. Boys, do you two happen to have any for your tea?" she asked.

John Watson sighed.

"I hadn't the chance to go out for any yet this week, since Sherlock the Great over there is never willing."

Sherlock smirked.

The Doctor jumped up out of his chair.

"Since my friend and I are guests for a while, it's only proper that I run out for some."

"Good idea!" Scarlett shined as she got up as well.

This was her chance to talk with the Doctor in private. She didn't know where he was going with this mystery, but she wanted to find out what he knew so far. Both of them started down the stairs. With a chance for Watson to be alone with Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock, he quickly approached his best friend.

"Why haven't you kicked them out yet? I thought you said they didn't have anything to do with the case. I think it's suspicious how they're moping around here," Watson questioned.

"John," Sherlock mumbled. "We have to keep our eyes on them. Their seemingly pointless visit may be vital to this case. Quite frankly, I haven't the slightest idea why they're here. Only lies have details, John. They're vague; they're indefinite in even their most precise actions. That woman watches her friend severely and thinks before she speaks. I suspect the man does the same, but he doesn't look about his environment like she does. He just makes himself comfortable and stares off into space. I don't think they know much about the murder but that leaves us with the question: Why are they pestering us? So yes, as you said, they're… suspicious. Only because, I believe, they're suspicious of us…"

"And how do you know that?" Mrs. Hudson asked, "They seem like a cute couple, if you ask me. Especially that Mr. Smith. Mind you, that fella's a bit closer to my age but…"

"Because," Sherlock quickly interrupted, "they were at the wrong place at the wrong time." Watson and Mrs. Hudson gave him confused facial expressions. They didn't know what he was catching onto, but they didn't question it. Sherlock typically knows what he's talking about.

Meanwhile, when the Doctor and Scarlett made it to the bottom of the stairs, the Doctor stopped Scarlett.

"Didn't you listen? Just me. You stay here with the 221B crew. Figure out as much as you can," the Doctor dictated.

"But Doctor," she whimpered. "We just stopped here in London for a visit and now we're involved in a murder case with a bunch of Sherlock Holmes fanatics. Why are we even here? I want an explanation."

"Well, my dear," the Doctor also whispered. "You're curious and I'm curious. These people need help solving a case, and this is your ideal heaven; whether you want to admit it or not. We help people, Scarlett, that's what we do."

"No, that's what you do. That's what we're doing here, isn't it?" she grinned. "We're not really helping the people involved in the murder; we're helping a Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

The Doctor showed a toothless smile and kissed her on the forehead. He put his hand on her head and ruffled her hair.

"Sort of," he said.

He turned around and walked out the front door. Feeling proud with herself, she jumped up the stairs to return to the flat.

"He meant it," Scarlett said cheerfully as she strutted inside. "He wanted to go alone… probably afraid that I'd want to buy the whole store. I'm a pushover for hard candies."

Watson smiled at her remark as Mrs. Hudson headed back down to her flat. Sherlock only faked a smile. John took a seat at his chair with the newspaper for the day while Scarlett awkwardly stood in the doorway. She scanned over the flat with her eyes as she thought about what to do or say. Suddenly, the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes of her childhood slowly came around the corner that separated the kitchen from the living quarters. He was dressed in the stereotypical Mr. Holmes get-up that consisted of a coat, deerstalker, and a lit calabash pipe. While puffing on his tobacco, his heavy footsteps echoed with each stride as Scarlett stared in amazement. He kept eye contact with her as he made his way towards the fireplace. She was flabbergasted, but she knew well enough to keep a poker face. She knew perfectly well that no one but her could see him. When she was younger, she always treated him as a real person. She knew he wasn't real, but she considered his friendship to be. There was no denying that his influence was a great chapter in her life… but she pushed him out of her mind since then. This time around, however, she treated him exactly as he was: an imaginary friend.

I thought I put you to rest. It's 2011, so… 33 years ago. God, I'm not even that many years old yet.

"I certainly hope you're happy to see me. I assume that's not a look of anger that's displayed on your face. I suppose that I chose an inopportune time for a reunion filled with smiles and locking embraces. Ah, yes, it's wise not to speak. Bravo. As you're probably mentally inquiring, I'm here for a reason. I am in need of assistance," Basil Rathbone-faced Sherlock grinned as he leaned his elbow on the mantle of the fireplace. "The game is afoot."

Scarlett broke eye contact and stared down at the floor. She was trying to ignore him. Watson looked up from his newspaper to look at Scarlett.

"You may sit down. You don't have to just stand there until your friend gets back. Make yourself at home," Watson smiled.

Scarlett smiled back and nodded as a gesture of gratitude. Not thinking, she aimlessly snuffled towards the couch by the front door and sat down.

"Perhaps I'm mistaken. Maybe there is anger behind that mask after all. You stuffed me under the bed, remember? Me… not you. The memory of me locked in a chest for Lord knows how many years. Scarlett, my dear, I thought we had a more robust bond than that. I've helped you over the years. Now it's your turn to help me," the invisible Sherlock grimaced.

Watson and Sherlock both noticed Scarlett staring at the fireplace for a couple minutes straight. The two of them looked at each other and discussed each other's curiosity with their eyes. John Watson threw on a smile.

"Something fascinate you?" John asked.

The question broke Scarlett's concentration on her old friend. She had to blink a few time and refocus on what was really happening around her. It took a moment for her mind to register that Watson was talking to her.

"Um," she murmured as she tried to think up a quick answer. "The skull. Why is there a skull on your fireplace? Is it real?"

Good save.

"Good company of mine," the real man, who claims to be Sherlock Holmes, muttered.

"Yes, good company of mine. I prefer you though," the simulated Sherlock responded.

Every time the two men would explain the skull, the unreal man by the fireplace would interrupt in some way. He'd either say something overtop of them or play with the smoke floating out of his pipe. Every move he made would distract Scarlett.

Scarlett looked back down towards the floor and nodded her head in response to the two men in the room. It would've probably been a better decision to say something in response to the answer, but she had an invisible man talking to her as well as two real ones. It was a bit confusing to focus on just one conversation. The two of them went back to what they were doing but still kept an eye on Scarlett.

"Help me help you," the false Sherlock lightly pleaded.

Scarlett looked up at him again with an irritated glimmer in her eyes. She was unhappy with herself; despite her wanting to ignore him, she was actually interested in what he had to say. Perhaps all the curiosity of her childhood didn't get locked away like with what she did with her imaginary friend. Her eagerness to learn was too overpowering to be contained in a child's treasure chest.

"Get his attention," the fake Sherlock said as he glanced over at the Sherlock sitting at the table.

"Mr. Holmes?" Scarlett reluctantly said aloud.

Only moving his eyes, the man looked up from his laptop. He didn't say anything as he awaited her pointless question or conversation. Scarlett didn't really think about what she was going to say next. She did as her friend asked and got his attention.

"You call that getting his attention? A glare? You'll have to try much better than that if you're going to achieve any task put in front of you," the simulated Sherlock scolded with a grin on his face.

Scarlett put her head to the floor for the third time as she thought of something to say. Still waiting for a response, the man behind the laptop spoke up.

"Out with it," Sherlock murmured impatiently from behind the computer.

"She's shy. There's no need to be so rude to the girl," Watson defended her. "He's a bit intimidating… if you haven't noticed, Ms. Bathurst."

Scarlett smiled at Watson as a grateful gesture. He smiled back, and they both looked at Sherlock. He rolled his eyes and looked back down at the computer screen.

"You had to jump and scream at me to get my attention, remember?" the false Sherlock recalled aloud. "Being yourself isn't going to make him pay attention to you. I know you have questions for him. Get answers!"

Scarlett jumped a little bit from the blast of her friend's sudden, demanding voice. She decided to take action. The two men looked over at her.

"A chill," she defended.

Getting the Doctor's attention was a skill that she has developed well over the years, so it's only right to assume that she can do the same to anyone. It was time to put on an act. She snuck up behind Sherlock and bent in closer to look at his laptop, knowing he'd find it annoying. She decided to take advantage of breathing over his shoulder. She came in close and put her head right above his shoulder.

"What cha' looking at?" she impishly asked.

"Research," he grumbled.

"Regarding the case?" she asked in return.

She had raised the tone of her voice, knowing this behavior will only leave a more memorable impression. That's what she wanted.

"No," he replied.

"You knew the victim had just recently been in Italy. Rome, more specifically."

He looked over to find her staring right at him, her face only inches away from his. She knew this would get on his nerves. He had an antisocial personality about him.

"How, more importantly, do you know?" he asked, a tad bit surprised, as he turned to look at her.

To his dismay, her face was only a few inches away from his. He broke eye contact with her when she didn't respond to his question. Turning back around, he stared at his laptop as he spoke again.

"Well, I first noticed his…"

"Boring!" Scarlett rudely interrupted. "I already know, remember? You don't have to tell me something I already know."

That was it. He officially had a bitterness towards her. She had just rubbed him the wrong way but that didn't necessarily mean that he wasn't engrossed in learning about her intentions. Even John's head shot up from his paper the moment she stopped Sherlock from showing off. Stopping Sherlock from explaining his deductions was a 'no, no'. John knew it too. All three of them didn't say a word to each other for a good fifteen minutes. The tension in the room immediately shifted when the Doctor burst into the room, larger than life, with a liter of milk. The Basil Rathbone-faced Sherlock Holmes vanished in the blink of an eye as soon as the Doctor showed up. Scarlett slowly got up and followed the Doctor into the kitchen area. He started preparing the tea.

"You and your milk," she grinned as she shook her head.

"Yeah," he smiled as well. "Thanks."

"Thanks for what?" she asked.

"The milk," he winked.

It took Scarlett a few moments to register what he meant. Then it dawned on her.

"You bastard. You can't stop yourself from proving a point, can you?" she leered.

"Watch your tongue," the Doctor joked, "you're starting to sound like Lestrade. Well, there's a reason for that particular cause. If it wasn't for us being here, we wouldn't be here… Don't overthink that statement. I'm pretty sure that was the first time you met me."

Scarlett didn't really know what to say. All she could do was laugh along with the Doctor. She should know by now not to question him. It's hard not to think of things in a cause-to-effect relationship when he pulls stunts like that.

"You realized that milk carton is many, many years old," Scarlett pointed out.

"No one is looking but us," the Doctor smiled as he reassured her.

The Doctor and Scarlett served the tea into the living area while the simulated Mr. Holmes glared at Scarlett from the fireplace.

"What? None for me?" he smirked as Scarlett ignored the comment.

The Doctor didn't get a chance to say a word to Mr. Holmes or Watson before Lestrade came stomping up the stairs. He had a couple of zip-lock bags with him. He spoke to Sherlock.

"I've got some evidence here that Anderson took a look at…"

"Let me guess. He didn't find any evidence relevant to the murder. You might want to reconsider reevaluating your forensics squad, especially one that's led by Anderson," Sherlock sighed.

"That's enough out of you, Sherlock," Lestrade scolded as he pointed his finger at him. "Unless you want another drugs bust, you better lay off. Could you just look at it? Please?" Lestrade handed him the bags.

"If you find anything useful, give me a call. All we know is that the victim has been in Europe, probably not that long ago. There's no I.D. or passport with the wallet, but the money makes the fact pretty obvious. I'm not sure how he managed to afford a cup of coffee if all his currency is still in euros. Anderson's running the fingerprints off of all that, but knowing him, it'll take quite a while. Fingerprint scans are about all he's good for… those and drugs busts," Lestrade cackled as he headed out the door.

Watson looked at Sherlock.

"If you already knew about him being aboard, without even having to look in his wallet, how come you didn't tell him before? You tell Lestrade everything. You're a giddy, little child at a murder scene. It's like your job to never stop talking about mutilated corpses," Watson complained.

Sherlock didn't answer his friend but looked up at Scarlett, who was staring at him. Everyone was looking at Mr. Holmes.

"I don't know… why didn't you, Miss Bathurst? Since you made it quite clear that you know what you're doing here. Solve the case," Sherlock smirked. "…She probably already did."

"Holmes," Watson disapproved, "don't be so rude. Stop it."

Scarlett angrily glared at Sherlock while the Doctor just sat on the couch, sipping his tea. He wasn't about to get involved. Watson tried to keep the long-gone peace.

"Would you like me to call Molly for a time to analyze the evidence?" Sherlock sighed and broke his eye contact with Scarlett to look at his friend.

"No need, John. There's nothing to look for. It's the murderer that counts in this case, not the victim. Only the police would rip the victim apart, still knowing they'll find nothing. Normally, that would be the case but it's not this time. The victim was random; absolutely random. The only thing I got from the victim was that the murderer used a small handgun. Anyone could own one of those. All of this is coming from the Metropolitan Police station, who thought the shot was impossible based on where the impact wound was located in regard to his sitting position. They didn't even consider the bartender doing it, which he didn't, by the way. Besides, Molly didn't even get a report on the puddle yet. I'm still waiting for that… I hate waiting," Sherlock wailed. "I should've gone and done it myself."

Scarlett didn't know what to think of him. He's obviously telling the truth, but he's not telling all of it. Mr. Holmes was researching Rome, a fact he discovered from the victim. The victim can't be that insignificant if he was looking into it. He was defending himself but Scarlett didn't know why.

Watson started to pace, annoyed with the whole situation. Scarlett sat beside the Doctor, waiting for some kind of instruction. Sherlock got up with the evidence bags and headed towards the fireplace. Everyone in the room was watching him, since this was the first time he's moved from the table. He lifted up a floorboard in front of the fireplace and put the bags inside.

"Safe keeping," he said aloud as he headed back to his laptop, "I don't think Scotland Yard will need it again. If the murderer needed to get rid of their evidence, not knowing forensics found nothing on the items, they'll come looking for it. They'll want to get rid of any possible evidence that exists. They'll be paranoid. I'm sure if they're scared enough, they'll go to great lengths to follow a trail to where the items ended up."

"So," Watson replied, "you suspect that the murderer might be clever enough to come here, knowing Scotland Yard trusts you with case evidence?"

"That's correct, Watson," Sherlock grinned, "If we're lucky, they'll figure out it's here and come straight to us."

Sherlock seemed pleased with himself. John Watson, on the other hand, looked cross with him. Scarlett leaned beside the Doctor. Scarlett whispered to him.

"He's starting to sound like you now."

The Doctor chuckled. He then got up from the couch and approached Sherlock. The Doctor politely asked a question for Mr. Holmes to answer.

"We'd like to help you with the case, however possible. Mind if we stop by tomorrow?"

"I highly doubt I'll require your services," Sherlock stated. "But you two seem concerned enough. I trust you'll come over to bother us anyway, whether or not I decline your request."

"Sounds about right!" Scarlett beamed.

Mr. Holmes stared wide-eyed at her for such an enthusiastic response. The Doctor and Scarlett said their goodbyes and left for the T.A.R.D.I.S. Waiting for them outside was the simulated Sherlock who waved goodbye as they walked right past him. They started to strike up a conversation while walking down the street.

"That Sherlock fellow seems pretty intelligent, if you ask me. I think I'm figuring it out. They're nicknames. Their job positions are a coincidence which makes their nicknames so suitable," Scarlett said.

"Scarlett, what more do I need to prove that there are no such things as coincidences?" the Doctor asked, frustrated.

Scarlett rolled her eyes at his sour opinion of her deduction.

"You never fail to amuse me. You tell me not to think of things in terms of a cause-and-effect relationship, but you also tell me there's no such thing as a coincidence. I'll prove they're just nicknames. I have an idea. When we arrive tomorrow morning, we're taking Sherlock Holmes to a bookstore."


	13. Episode 12

**Episode 12:**

**Arthur Charlatan Doyle?**

The two of them went to visit the next morning. Of course, they cheated and took a shortcut by taking the T.A.R.D.I.S. It may be been the next day, but it only took them a few minutes to arrive from yesterday afternoon.

Lestrade had called for the boys' services either intentionally or unintentionally. Either way, they were planning on investigating a new crime scene. Since the Doctor was there, he decided to go along Mr. Holmes and Watson. He might as well make himself useful and play the part of a concerned client. Scarlett, however, found a way to go to a bookstore. She made up some excuse about being squeamish and that she'll have to stay behind. She waited until the boys left before she headed out.

There was a bookstore a couple streets down. She may not be familiar with London, but she's familiar with a bookstore. The store had books and artwork displayed in the front display window. Although some of the display books were brand new and fascinating to her, she didn't have time to browse. She was on a mission. Scarlett wandered around the fiction section, but she didn't find what she was looking for. Maybe there's a 'classics' section. She looked and there wasn't any. There was a computer to look books up like a card analog. She didn't exactly know how to work one of those things, so she winged it. She typed in 'Doyle': no results. She typed in 'Conan': a result popped up about some late night television host. She had no idea what or who that was. She typed in 'Arthur Conan Doyle': no results. She thought that she might have been using the computer wrong. The concept of using a computer was completely new to her. She went to the circulation desk and asked a woman if they had any of the Sherlock Holmes novels. The woman was confused by what Scarlett was asking her. She told Scarlett that she must be confused with John Watson's somewhat famous blog. She explained to Scarlett how John writes his adventures with Sherlock on an internet blog and that that's probably what she was looking for.

"No!" Scarlett shrieked. "Sherlock Holmes… the world's only consulting detective. The books! The books written more than a century ago! Arthur Conan Doyle! The books… you're a bookstore. How do you not know what I'm talking about?"

The woman apologized and asked her to leave if she could not keep her voice down. She was starting a scene. Scarlett sped walked back to 221B, but she stopped to ask people about Sherlock Holmes on the streets.

"The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes? Arthur Conan Doyle? Have you heard of either of them?"

She continued to ask people questions. Citizens would either not know who she was talking about or they'd direct her to 221B, claiming that that's where she'll find Sherlock. She began to panic. As she approached the corner of Baker Street, a man grabbed her arm and pulled her into a narrow alley. She frantically looked up and stared at the face of the William Gillette-faced Sherlock Holmes.

"Do you accept the case?" he asked.

"What case? There is no case; there is no you!" she exasperated in a loud whisper.

"Precisely."

Scarlett gave him a questioning glare.

"I'm only as real as you want me to be. Find the books, Scarlett. Find them!" he demanded in a panicked voice.

She had never seen him so upset before.

"Yes, I plan to. Help me. I've always done the cases with you. I can't do it alone!" she whimpered.

"I already am helping you," he stated as he vanished into thin air.

"That's not my definition of 'helping'," she sighed.

Scarlett ran as fast as she could back to 221B, hoping the Doctor was back from the scene. Unfortunately, she didn't think about other people being with him if he had returned. It wasn't just the Doctor in the flat when she burst through the door. He was there with Sherlock, John, and Lestrade as well. Scarlett was beyond frightened at this point. She had to talk to the Doctor, and she didn't care who was present. Everyone stared at her as she burst into the room.

"Doctor!" she trembled. "They don't exist! Sherlock Holmes, the books, my childhood; no one knows what I'm talking about! The books, the movies, everything. Just vanished! Poof!" Scarlett quivered as she grabbed the Doctor's coat lapel.

Everyone in the room was obviously confused, but Lestrade was the first one to speak up, "Doctor? You didn't tell us you were a doctor."

The Doctor took Scarlett in his arms.

"Um," the Doctor squeaked as he tried to find the words. "Something must've given her a fright coming back from wherever she was."

He backed himself and Scarlett towards the front door.

"I'll just step out with her into the hallway and try to calm her down," the Doctor reassured them. "I'll make her some tea," Watson mumbled.

"Calm?" she quickly screeched. "How can I not be calm? How can you be so calm? I'm not over exaggerating this, and I'm not under exaggerating this either! Calm is not an option. 'Watson, if it should ever strike you that I am getting a little overconfident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, kindly whisper 'Norbury' in my ear, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you.' See what I did? Sherlock Holmes said that. My Sherlock Holmes. The Adventure of the Yellow Face! Even he had more sentiment during that case than you do this instant, and that's saying something! If Sherlock finds a racial family dispute that heart-retching in order to recognize his non-infallible personality, then I find this weighing greatly on the scale of heart-retching! This isn't emotional criteria I'm talking about; this is infallible. Books were there and now they're not! You need to tell me what's happening. I can't be calm; calm cannot happen. There is nothing calm about this!" Scarlett spoke almost too fast for the Doctor to even keep up with her.

Shocked and speechless, he led her into the hallway as she tried to catch her breath.

While Scarlett freaked out to the Doctor in the hallway, Lestrade and Sherlock discussed the two of them inside the flat.

"I knew it," Lestrade paced. "When I saw them at the café crime scene, they acted… strange."

"You mean, natural," Sherlock replied.

"They have something to do with the case. I know it. I don't know how, I just have a hunch." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts," Sherlock proclaimed.

He paced along with Lestrade until Lestrade stopped and gave him an aggravated look.

"Look here, I give you classified access to police files to help solve cases we are baffled on. The café one, however, you haven't helped us with one bit! Maybe if you'd tell us some facts, we wouldn't have to make such suspicions," Lestrade argued.

"I have facts, Lestrade, but they are of no use to you, because the victim isn't what's important! The only lead you could've had was from a puddle," Sherlock stressed.

"Could've?" Lestrade asked. "Did you find anything about this important water of yours?" Sherlock shamefully looked up at him. He cleared his throat and whispered.

"Yes… no."

Lestrade crossed his arms. Sherlock spoke a bit louder.

"I don't know, Lestrade. I don't know! Fine, I said it. Molly gave me the analysis today, and it's just rainwater."

"What's your point?" Lestrade questioned as he cocked his head.

"It is rainwater," Sherlock clenched his teeth as he spoke.

"It wasn't raining anywhere within miles upon miles from there on that particular day. How could they have been drenched in rainwater? That's all I've got, so that's all you've got as well." Lestrade shook his head and continued pacing.

John had gotten the tea made and called Scarlett and the Doctor in for their drinks. As they came in, Lestrade passed them while he left. He stopped the look at Scarlett.

"Don't think you're off the hook because Sherlock will stand up for you. He's not the police," Lestrade warned.

When he left, Scarlett and the Doctor took a seat on the couch with their tea. Scarlett couldn't keep the cup in its saucer. She was still shaking fairly well, considering she still didn't comprehend everything that was going on. The Doctor's talk with her in the hallway didn't consist of much help. He instructed her to stay calm and that everything will turn out fine. That was as much comfort as she was going to get from him at the moment. They waited for John and Sherlock's inevitable questions. Sherlock paced in front of them.

"You've been lying the entire time," Sherlock stated.

"I know, because you…"

"You're right. We've been lying, so we already know," Scarlett interrupted.

She was obviously unhappy with this whole situation. She didn't get much comfort from the Doctor, so she was lashing out. Sherlock got irritated when she interjected him like that. Now both of them weren't in such a fantastic mood. Scarlett set her tea down on the ground. She grabbed the Doctor by his coat sleeve and dragged him off the couch as she approached Sherlock face to face. "I don't know who you are or what is going on, but I'm going to find out," she growled.

She pulled the Doctor to the door with her.

"We're going to the bookstore, Doctor! Those books have to be there somewhere," she proclaimed.

And with that, Scarlett yanked the Doctor with her out the front door, leaving Sherlock and John speechless.

"Well, I'm lost," John shrugged. "And John Smith still has Mrs. Hudson's tea cup with him. She won't be too pleased about that."

"She's not as clever as she thinks she is," Sherlock murmured to himself.

"She knew that the victim had been to Rome too but not because of anything she observed on the victim… she observed me looking up Rome on the laptop. Yes, John, you are lost… and so is she. Scarlett Bathurst is a rather oblivious person… more so than most. Bi-polar, obviously… a bit hypomanic. The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes, but she's at the wrong place at the wrong time…"

Sherlock shook his head and went back to finding answers to his puddle questions. He was trying to piece together a puzzle. He had the pieces; he just didn't know where they connected. As Sherlock worked at his table, John watched television. John knew Sherlock wasn't going to give up so easily and neither was Scarlett Bathurst. She was looking for an answer too, but to what, Sherlock didn't know. All he knew was that it involved him, based on what she was screeching about after she came back to the flat earlier.

John went into the kitchen about an hour after the little episode with Scarlett and the Doctor.

"Sherlock," John shouted as he looked in the refrigerator. "We need milk…again."

Sherlock didn't say anything.

"Thanks to Mr. Smith, we had milk yesterday, but we still managed to run out. Could you go to the store this time?" John pleaded.

Sherlock still didn't say anything. He sat at his table with this hands underneath his chin. John sighed and grabbed his coat.

"How many Sherlock Holmes does it take to get milk?" John asked, sarcastically.

"I don't know," Sherlock mumbled.

"I don't know either. I've never seen him do it before," John responded.

Sherlock chuckled and so did his friend. John left Sherlock alone in the flat as he popped out to the store.

Sherlock took advantage of being alone. He was stressed about the café case, and there was only one stress reliever that he used. He has been doing well in trying to break the habit, but the urge was too strong. He knew he shouldn't do it. Sherlock slithered his way into his bedroom to find his slippers. He's the only man that John Watson ever knew who that kept his tobacco hidden in the toes of his Persian slippers. Sherlock didn't bother to turn on the lights, because he knew the slippers were right underneath his bed. There was a tad bit of light, so he could see the outlines of objects. That was good enough for him. He got down on his hands and knees to feel underneath his bed. He felt around for a while until he couldn't find them. Frustrated, he put his head down to floor level to look for them. He thought John had probably hid them from him again. His brother, Mycroft, might've called John and warned him that Sherlock was to be on a 'stress' watch. He hated when Mycroft did that; he worried too much. When Sherlock looked under his bed, he saw the outline of a hand. Sherlock wasn't used to getting caught off guard, so he jumped. He squinted his eyes to try and make out what he was seeing. The index finger wasn't there, like it was broken off. He thought it looked like stone which is only logical, since the hand was in a fist position other than the index finger that is supposed to be sticking out.

"How peculiar…" Sherlock whispered.

He reached out to touch the space of the invisible pointer finger.

He blinked.

"I'm back!" John announced as he came through the front door.

"I see Scarlett and the other John aren't back yet," John said as he put the milk away.

He started to look around the flat for his friend. He concluded that he was probably talking to himself. Sure, Sherlock won't leave for milk, but he'll leave whenever he feels like it. John shot him a text and watched television until he got a response. There wasn't much else to do when Sherlock wasn't there. Evening crept up on John, and he still didn't get a response from Sherlock. He started to get a little paranoid. It wasn't like Sherlock to mess up his routine.

Scarlett and the Doctor came back around 8p.m. with no luck of discovering Scarlett's childhood memories. John looked at them when they came in.

"Did Sherlock happen to follow you two anywhere? He's been gone since around the time you two left early this afternoon. I haven't heard from him," John asked.

Scarlett and the Doctor shook their heads. Although Scarlett was still shaken up and didn't want to stay, they remained with John late into the night. They waited for Sherlock to walk through the door. John called Lestrade, Mycroft, and even Molly Hooper to see if they've heard from him. No one had seen him that evening. Scarlett and the Doctor could see that John was worried. He knew Sherlock's habits more than anyone else, so his worries were probably justified. John paced the floor, sometime around midnight, and froze where he stood.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

He had a realization, and the Doctor and Scarlett waited to hear what he had to say.

"The murderer, you guys. Didn't Sherlock say that the murderer would come here?" he panicked.

"The evidence!" Scarlett screeched.

The three of them scurried over to the floorboard and ripped it open. The evidence was still there.

"That's good," John sighed with relief. "At least we know it wasn't the murderer."

With the three of them kneeling above the open floorboard, an Eille Norwood-faced Sherlock Holmes joined on top of them.

"Look harder," he demanded as he towered over Scarlett.

John and the Doctor got off the ground and walked away from the floorboard. They began to pace as they thought some more. Scarlett stayed kneeled in front of the fireplace. She dug through the evidence bags, just in case the intruder took one specific thing. Nothing was taken, but there was something that wasn't there before. At the bottom of all the evidence bags was a Webley bulldog revolver. The murderer was here, and this was a clue. She stuffed the revolver into her jacket so that the Doctor and John couldn't see. She was still confused about the books, but now the only man who could possibly explain anything to her has disappeared because, God knows, the Doctor isn't any help. Then it dawned on her: She's with a time travelling alien! She jumped up and grabbed the Doctor's hand.

"Mr. Smith and I will walk around and look around the block. Stay here in case he comes back, Mr. Watson. Let's go," she said as she dragged the Doctor out the door again.

She explained as they walked to the T.A.R.D.I.S.

"I found this," she said as she pulled out the revolver. "It was in the floorboard. It has to be the murderer's. It's a clue, Doctor. I don't know how, but it is. So I thought about it… Since the murderer really was there and probably has done something to Sherlock, we don't need to understand this clue. We just have to go back in time right before the victim walks into the bar and stop him from going in. We can't meet him at any other previous point in time, because we don't even know who he is. That way, the murder wouldn't have happened and nothing would've happened to Sherlock, since no murderer came to his flat to get evidence back. Sherlock wouldn't know us if we succeeded, but we can always reintroduce ourselves in order to solve the case of who this Sherlock Holmes imposter is. Problem solved!" Scarlett beamed.

She was quite proud of herself. She continued.

"Like Sherlock said before, the victim was random. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time, so we don't have to worry about him getting targeted afterwards. The murderer may or may not shoot someone else, but at least these specific events won't have occurred! I don't mean to sound morbid, but hopefully, if the murderer does shoot someone else, they'll leave more clues behind so that the police will be able to identify the victim as well as the murderer."

It started to downpour, and the two of them began to run towards the T.A.R.D.I.S.

"Sounds like a plan," the Doctor whispered, emotionless.

She could tell that he didn't like her last assumption. The Doctor opened the T.A.R.D.I.S. door for her. Once they were both in, he took off his wet coat and ordered Scarlett to go get him a dry one while he controlled the consul. The entire machine felt like it crash-landed. Scarlett assumed that they landed already. She skipped out the door to find that they've parked behind the café this time. They went inside through the backdoor, so they could watch for the victim to walk in through the front door.

Scarlett found herself and the Doctor standing behind the bar. She looked out to see if the victim arrived yet. To her surprise and dismay, the victim was already there. He was sitting in the exact spot and position that the murderer shot him. Her thoughts came together in a flash. They arrived too late to get him out. The murderer could shoot him any second. If this happens, they won't be able to change current events and prevent Sherlock's disappearance. If the Doctor took them back in time to try again, a few seconds earlier, their past selves would see their future selves come into the bar. That involved a personal paradox, so that's ruled out. The only way to prevent the murderer from killing this man was for her to kill him herself before the murderer does. She grabbed the revolver from her wet jacket pocket, and she shot him. In shock, she froze where she stood. It happened quickly; the Doctor didn't realize what she was going to do until he saw her point the revolver at him. The Doctor grabbed her arm and dragged her outside and into the T.A.R.D.I.S. while everyone was screaming. The Doctor practically threw her into his machine and took off. Standing there, shaking and soaking wet, she whimpered.

"Don't you see? We were too late. It was the only answer; the only option we had. I know you disapprove, but I can't apologize for my actions…" She started to smile weakly. "We stopped the events from happening!"

She tried to read his facial expressions, since he wasn't talking to her. He was angry. Or was that sorrow? She couldn't read him. Suddenly, the fake Mr. Holmes descended down the T.A.R.D.I.S. stairs but stopped at the last step.

"Murder suspect," he whispered.

"Oh my God," she gasped as she comprehended his comment. "The police might get some form of a clue that could lead to me. They might… they might know. Quick! Land us back when we left John alone! Both the boys will be there now and won't know us, but Lestrade will mostly likely take the evidence to Sherlock again. He may or may not put it in the floorboard, but he'll have it. He may or may not analyze it for evidence. They may not have evidence found from the original murderer, but they might have mine! They could track me! I mean… I mean, I'll be a 57 year old living in America… but still. I could destroy the evidence; I can't risk my future. I don't want to be remembered as a murderer, Doctor. Didn't you hear me? Land us!" she screamed.

The Doctor hesitated at the consul as his hands hovered over the levers and buttons. Noticing that he wasn't moving, Scarlett's face turned a fury red.

"Why do you always do this to me?" she balled.

The Doctor's face shot up as he stared at her in shock. Not expecting such a vague and random question, he studied her emotions as she began to cry in frustration.

"What is important to me is not what is important to you! I lost Gamori, Doctor! I lost my friend along with my respect for you! Oh, you there, skipping from one planet to the next without a care in the universe. The galaxies are your galleries, and you've taught me to appreciate every last bit of it," Scarlett spitefully ranted. "But when I can't see the beauty in life, Doctor, when I can't appreciate the adventure you've handed me, you have no right to tell me I'm wrong! I mourn the loss of a friend and you shrug it off as if I've split milk. That's how you what me to see friend but I don't! I refuse! I came along with you in hopes of finding the joys of life. I wanted to know what made it so fascinating! I mean, for Christ's sake, what's the point in existence and life if it's not to be appreciated and beautiful. I needed to find that, Doctor; I haven't seen it until I met you! I finally understood the meaning of friendship; I finally found another living creature with whom marveled me! Besides yourself, I finally found another living soul who became part of my definition of what life is about… and you didn't even see the beauty I saw in him. Gamori gave me something to think about… to wonder about. You have no remorse in your soul, Doctor. You have no understanding of loss or sorrow. You have no concept of what it's like to be bored! What it feels like to be buried six feet under while you're still alive!"

The Doctor slammed his fists down in angst onto his consul in an all-out wrath.

"No comprehension of empathy? How much do you give a damn, Miss Bathurst, about what goes on around you? Nothing matters to you unless you actually care. I invite you on this ship and confide my life's story to you: last of the TimeLords and the Time War. When I poured my soul out to you, were you sympathetic? Or was my story just as fairytale and fickle as me and my magical time-machine was at the time? Oh wait, I recalled being told to 'piss off' at the mere mention of my life… I mean, sob-story, as you would say. I've murdered my family… my whole race. I can never die; you'll grow old and wither away to dust but I'll still be here. I cannot bear the pain of living in solitude, so I force my hearts to tell myself every day that having friends is worth the pain after their inevitable deaths. Perhaps it is best to try and move on with my life: by trying to shrug off death like it's nothing. Perhaps it's the only way to carry on! I sure as hell know it to be! I've been doing it for two thousand years! It is you, Miss Bathurst, who does not have the right to tell me that I don't understand remorse or sorrow! I try to make it up every single day by saving your sorry-arses from hell-fire and do I feel any better about what I've done? No! This blood cannot be washed off; this loneliness cannot be filled. It's an endless cycle; it's the curse of the TimeLords. I ran away from infinity… I've looked into it: the Untampered Schism. An eternal damnation of everlasting torment is my existence! So excuse the goddamn pardon out of me, Miss Bathurst, for trying to find the light at the end of this never-ending tunnel. Are you too prideful to admit that I know what I'm talking about? Do you think that I've ever been just as bored as you? I have all of existence before me with nothing more to discover; it's getting really hard to find that light, Scarlett," the Doctor raged as his voice got calmer yet remained just as scary. "Your godforsaken, narcissistic personality collides with my own! But our similarities are what make us different. I am God compared to you. You cannot possibly even remotely fathom what my life is like even if you tried. You think you have a temper? You think you're superior to me? If you don't think that I could or would take your life in a mere second then you best change your mind about me in a heartbeat."

Scarlett froze where she stood in absolute fright. Never before had the Doctor spoken to her in such a threatening manner. All the optimism that had always been present in him had drained from his being. The alien that stood before her was one that she did not recognize. The Doctor lost eye contact with Scarlett as he started fiddling with the consul. He had a solemn face and did as he was told earlier: take Scarlett back to 221B. He knew for a long time what awaited her there and wanted to get the show on the road.

The T.A.R.D.I.S. landed an hour after they went out to look for Sherlock. Scarlett kept her face down while dragging her feet behind the Doctor as he marched out of his machine is long strides. She knocked on the door of 221B while she thought of an excuse to tell Sherlock, if he had returned, as to why a stranger was at his door so late at night. The Doctor's previous behavior threw her off guard. John Watson opened the door. Mrs. Hudson was standing behind him.

"Did you find him? It doesn't look like it," he sighed.

Scarlett stood there in the rain, lost in thought. She quickly ran past John to go up to the flat as it dawned on her as to why she was there. She looked in the floor to find her evidence of the shooting. The Doctor knew that she didn't fully comprehend what was going on yet. She didn't pay attention to John at the front door; she still thought events had changed now that she had shot the victim instead of the murderer. In the floorboard, she found the original evidence bags from before. She expected something to be different but it wasn't. She thought that the evidence might not be in the floor, because the police would've found something that would lead her to be a suspect. It was in that moment that she registered what John had said at the front door. The Doctor came in the flat to find her kneeled on the ground with tears in her eyes.

"I don't… understand," she whined.

"Yes, you do," the Doctor said as he kneeled down beside her. "You're the original murderer."

Scarlett wasn't in shock like she was before at the bookstore or when the Doctor had threatened her. Earlier, as soon as she realized that she had to shoot the victim, she had a gut-feeling that this might be the outcome. She just didn't want to bring herself to believe it. John stood in the doorway, not following, as usual.

"I assume you didn't find any clues to the whereabouts of my friend?" he budged into the conversation between Scarlett and the Doctor.

John's question made Scarlett snap out of her emotional breakdown. She spoke up.

"I know I should be morally beating myself up for killing a man right now, but… he's onto something. If I made the events occur, and I'm the murderer… What happened to Sherlock?" The Doctor stared at her as he thought long and hard to answer her question.

"Rome," she whispered. "Maybe there's something in these bags that have to do with Rome. It was the only lead Sherlock had! Maybe he discovered something about the victim, associated with Rome, which led him to investigate somewhere. He claimed that the only lead he had was the puddle, but that turned out to be a bust. He didn't tell the police, because maybe he thought the victim was associated with a larger murder case that Sherlock was involved in solving. That's why all he ever researched on his laptop was stuff regarding Italy. Maybe he kept the evidence so that he really could analyze it."

John's eyes widened.

"Say, you might be onto something…" John said. "He is working on another string of criminal acts right now. Apparently, a string of murderers worked for a criminal mastermind. He might've thought this victim was a clue to finding him."

Scarlett and the Doctor looked up at John.

"Who?" Scarlett asked, frantically.

"I think his name is Moriarty or something like that," John said.

If this was true, Scarlett and the Doctor knew Sherlock would be in danger if he found him. The three of them scavenged through the evidence bags, not knowing what they were looking for.

"The euros! Lestrade mentioned them," John stammered. "Look in the wallet for them. I'll look through the papers on the table in case Sherlock has done any analyses on them. He might have found some ridiculous substance on them that led to where the victim lived or something. I don't know exactly; I just follow along with whatever he finds. Whatever he could've found, he may have wandered off because of it."

John headed towards the table while the Doctor poured out the contents of the wallet. The Doctor found a photograph that he stared at intensely. Scarlett noticed his reaction and crawled behind him to see what he was looking at. She waited for the explanation that he obviously had. He knew something that none of them did.

"The angel," he whimpered. "This is a camera shot of just the angel from a statue called 'Habakkuk and the Angel' by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. It's located in the Chigi Chapel in Rome, Italy."

"What's the big deal, Doctor?" she asked. "What're you telling us?" The Doctor continued. "There's an ancient race of aliens… they're called the Weeping Angels."

The Doctor took a deep breath before he began his heart-wrenching explanation as to what happened to Sherlock.

"When living creatures look at them, they will become quantum-locked, meaning that they turn to stone. They do this so that no one can witness their true form, whatever that may be. When you break eye contact with them, even for a mere blink, they can move; they're no longer quantum-locked. If they don't keep their eyes covered in the presence of another angel, they could quantum-lock themselves. They could never break eye contact, since they're stone, so they would be quantum-locked forever. They're deadly. The moment they can touch you in non-quantum-locked form, they can send you back or forwards in time. You'd have to live the rest of your life outside of your own timeline; away from everyone you've ever known. They're the only psychopaths in the world to kill you nicely. This man… this victim… made a grave mistake. Those angels were forever quantum-locked. They were not threat. Habakkuk and the Angel were staring at each other, but this man took a picture of just one of the statues: not both. The image of the Angel, the one statue, is preserved in this photograph. Once the angel can collect enough energy, it can take action. The image of an angel becomes an angel. Because the photograph had been in this flat, it developed and grew right here… and we didn't even realize…" the Doctor's speech started to slur.

Scarlett, believing him as she normally does in extraterrestrial cases.

"If this is true, where is the angel now? What time period could Sherlock have been sent to? We have to go get him!"

"No," the Doctor sighed. "The paradox is too great. We got too involved; mainly you, Scarlett." "Me?" Scarlett complained. "How is any of this my fault? Why can't we go fetch him?"

John started laughing in the middle of their argument. The two of them looked up at him. "Normal people. I can never seem to find them. Why me? I don't understand. Do I just attract psychopaths?" he asked, jokingly.

He obviously didn't believe a word the Doctor had said. She really couldn't blame him, but yet Scarlett knew the seriousness of the real situation. For that reason, she wished he believed this implausible story. Just this once, she really wished. She was in his shoes once… when she met the Doctor. His explanations were just as stupid as this one sounded to John. She didn't know what to say to make him trust them. John, still laughing, walked into Sherlock's bedroom to leave those two in the living room. Once he shut the door behind him, the laughter stopped.


	14. Episode 13

**Episode 13:**

**The One and Only Sherlock Holmes**

The moment she realized what happened to John, it became clear as to what was unfolding before her. She didn't even bother to make sure her assumption about John was correct. Her initial reaction involved checking on John in Sherlock's bedroom, but she had already guessed what happened. It all came to her in an instant. She stood up off the floor and scampered towards the front door. She didn't even wait for the Doctor. He didn't follow her, because he already knew where she was going: the bookstore. She paused and put her hand on the door handle. Before she took the first step out, she turned to face her friend. He towered over the hole in the floor with his head down and hands shoved in his trouser pockets.

"I know what you want me to think, but it's just not possible," Scarlett mumbled under her breath.

The Doctor raised his head up with a questioning look on his face.

"You know perfectly well what happened here today. You now know who he is," he sighed.

"No, I don't," she snapped.

The Doctor's confused look changed to that of surprise.

"I know who Sherlock Holmes is. I don't, however, know who that man is… or was," she defended.

"Scarlett…" the Doctor tried to sway her.

"No."

Scarlett scowled at him as he stood in silence. He was awaiting her next answer.

"I know who Sherlock Holmes is. Who I don't know is… is you," she scolded.

"Don't change the subject, Scarlett. You're angry, but you don't have to target the negativity on me."

"Me? Change the subject? You're the one who keeps changing the subject. Maybe I want to talk about you, hm?" Scarlett's voice escalated in volume and anger. "Maybe the one person I can't look up and read in a history book is you. What do you have to do with me? Who are you? Doctor who, exactly?"

"Calm down. There's no need for shouting," the Doctor pleaded.

Scarlett now pivoted her whole body to face the Doctor and raised her arms to the sky. She let them drop to her sides in angst. She was quite obviously impatient with him. No matter how frustrated she got, she knew that he'd never tell her the answers to her personal questions.

"Sherlock Holmes," the Doctor continued. "That was him… touched by an angel."

"I told you. That's not possible."

"And why not?"

Scarlett started to pace around the room and hand-smothered her face in torment. After a few moments, she paused by the fireplace and started to shake her hands in an exhausting attention to make her friend realize what was on her mind. A furious blush of red started to consume her whole face as her frustration was flowing over the limits. She wanted to make it clear that he understood everything she thought.

"Because I am Sherlock Holmes. Me! No one else. Just me. I am Sherlock Holmes! Always have been and always will be."

The Doctor took a step back as he comprehended how unstable his friend was. Scarlett was hyperventilating as she awaited the Doctor's signal that he understood. However, he did not, so he just stood in silence for a moment or two.

"He… um. That man… was sent back in time. He… he is… he is Sherlock Holmes," the Doctor slowly and softly stuttered.

"He can't be!" she exploded.

Her implosion of emotions made the Doctor jump.

"He's not my Sherlock Holmes! My Sherlock Holmes is from my memory. He is my influence and idol. He is my friend and mentor. He is everything I love about the world, because he taught me how to love it when there was nothing to love! My Sherlock Holmes is not a man from 2011 that wears a Belstaff coat. My Sherlock Holmes was in my books. He was in movies. He was in musicals. He was on radio shows. My Sherlock Holmes formed and made me who I am in every way possible. For that, I am Sherlock Holmes. An arrogant, pale brute that fiddles on a lab… lap…labtop, or whatever the hell that thing is, all day isn't Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't mean a thing to me. He's unimportant in every way possible. He'll never be Sherlock Holmes. Not on my watch!"

"Why can't he be?" the Doctor kindly asked.

Scarlett was at a loss for words, not because she didn't have an answer, but because she was shocked at the ignorance of his question.

"Genuinely and truly. Why can't he be?" the Doctor asked a second time. "When you imagine Sherlock Holmes, who do you see?"

Scarlett immediately thought about her imaginary friend. In her mind, she could see all the men who have represented her friend over the years: Basil Rathbone, Robert Rendel, Christopher Lee, William Gillette, John Barrymore, Eille Norwood, etc.

"Basil Rathbone, I suppose," she whispered as she spoke part of the truth.

"He is just an actor, is he not?"

"I guess."

"He's not really Sherlock Holmes. But he is to you, because he represents Sherlock Holmes."

Scarlett put her head down in remorse.

"Then, my dear, give me a verifiable reason why the man with the silly laptop, who acts and claims to be Sherlock Holmes, cannot be Sherlock Holmes," the Doctor concluded.

Feeling ashamed and unable to avoid the evidence that the Doctor placed in front of her, she stormed out the front door.

Once she left, the Doctor stood up, left the flat, and headed towards the T.A.R.D.I.S. with his head hung low, knowing what he had to do. Before he made it to the blue box around the corner, Lestrade showed up with Donovan and Anderson in a police cruiser. Right behind them was Mycroft, who was dropped off by his own private vehicle. The cruiser parked right outside of 221B, and Lestrade noticed the Doctor slinking down Baker Street.

"You find him yet?" Lestrade shouted.

The Doctor stopped walking but didn't turn around to face them. He didn't bother to look up as he shook his head. Donovan crossed her arms, Anderson cocked his head and Mycroft twirled his umbrella above his head as they all stared at the Doctor, since they have never seen him before. Lestrade mentioned to them that he might be a new friend of Sherlock's, but the three of them weren't convinced. He didn't give off the impression of a worried or concerned friend.

"My little brother may be off on one of his wild goose catches, but I'm normally informed of his whereabouts when concerning a case, especially if it involves the safety of the British government. I'm always in contact with him unless he's suffering from a… euphoric state; to put it gently. He can stay in his grotesque 'mind palace' for hours on end and is completely oblivious to the world around him if he's focusing hard enough. We're going to have the flat searched for any… illegal substances. One never knows when the great Sherlock Holmes is capable of having a relapse," Mycroft said as his voice started to trail off.

The Doctor didn't turn around while he listened to Mycroft try to justify why they're here. He continued walking once Mycroft had finished, and he disappeared around the corner of Baker Street. The Doctor left them on the sidewalk with apprehensive thoughts about him. The four of them headed towards 221B, and the Doctor didn't stop them. He had a job to do in 1891, and then try to convince Scarlett to come with him in 1979, just before Thanksgiving.

As Scarlett raced to the bookstore, she recognized the obvious fact that it was beyond midnight and that the store would be closed. As she ran there, she thought of various ways to break inside. She was desperate enough to go to those extremes, because the bookstore was her first thought as to where to go once she realized what was going on. She wasn't thinking clearly enough back at Baker Street to use Sherlock's laptop. If the realization wouldn't have smacked her in the face like that, subsequently she would've done the more logical thing. She was already a few feet from the bookstore, so it was too late now. She needed answers.

She arrived at the bookstore and discovered that she didn't have to break-in after all. The store was definitely closed, but she could see the books in the display window perfectly well. The new books were still in the window along with some classics. "A Study in Scarlet" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle sat on the windowsill of the bookstore. It was displayed upright on top of a pile of the other Sherlock Holmes-based novels. Her childhood, her existence, was a reality once again. Scarlett finally got the answer she was looking for. 'Why is your name Sherlock Holmes?' she asked Mr. Holmes when they first met… the answer is: because she made it so. She had answered her own question. To her, he was a fictional character who she deeply admired and respected. The man at the impossible flat of 221B, who claimed the name of her childhood savior, turned out to be a real-life version of a fictional detective. But, that wasn't the case. He was the real Sherlock Holmes. He wasn't a fictional character to begin with; He was always real. He was a man living in 2011, who was sent back in time to the 1880's, along with his colleague and best friend, who most certainly continued his blogging by writing down the adventures that he had with Sherlock Holmes. The books are in existence now that the weeping angels sent the storybook characters to the 1800's. Anyone who went into 221B, that didn't heed their 'don't blink' warning, were taken back in time. As this epiphany ran through her mind, standing outside of the bookstore, she realized that all her questions were still unanswered as another question arose. If John Watson is real, he must've been the original person to write about Sherlock. They weren't remembered through history as real men; they were fictional. The question of the hour is: Who is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?

In 1875, aside from being stunned, John found himself lying on the ground of a London street. At least, he hoped it was London. He had to blink a few times in order to comprehend what was going on around him. It didn't fully register what was happening until multiple horse-drawn carriages passed him. He stopped a few people on the street to ask what year it was and where he was. A few, friendly folks told him while others shrugged him off as a drunk. Once he realized that everything John Smith had said was true, he stumbled his way to 221B, hoping that that's where Sherlock had gone if he was sent to the same time period of 1875.

John welcomed himself into 221B, because no one greeted him at the door when he knocked. Conveniently, it was unlocked. He wasn't sure if Sherlock would be there, since it might be someone else's flat now. He slowly crept upstairs and heard the mournful, brushing sounds of violin strings the higher he crept up the stairs. He moseyed his way into his old flat… or newer flat, whichever perspective. There he was, Sherlock Holmes, brushing away on his violin in front of a window. John sneaked in, knowing his friend wouldn't pay attention. He knew he was tense. Whenever he was having some form of emotion, he would reflect it through his compositions. John could never quite read or understand Sherlock's sentiments, but he could guess them by the sound of his melodies. Looking around, John noticed that the flat was a wreck. Well, it's always been a wreck, but it was worse than normal. As he began to approach his friend, but he stopped when he spotted a small package underneath the vintage couch. The package had some kind of white powder surrounding it on the ground. John tiptoed over to the couch and bent over to dab some of the powder on his pinkie finger. He whiffed it and licked it, even though he had a feeling that he knew what it was already.

"Crystalline tropane alkaloid," Sherlock stated behind him.

John, standing back up, had groaned.

"I know what cocaine is, Sherlock."

John stayed standing by the couch while Sherlock put his violin down and approached his long-lost friend. Sherlock, hiding any possible emotion, coldly made a statement.

"I knew you'd show up sooner or later. Not a doubt in my mind."

John looked at him with a disgusted look on his face and sighed.

"Don't change the subject… Just about a day ago, you were trying to quit smoking and now this? It was bad enough finding out that you were a junkie after I moved in with you. I hadn't the faintest clue that you went the illegal route for a high. I'd prefer the smoking. I'll have to buy you a pipe." "I needed a picker-upper," Sherlock shrugged. "In order to keep my mind clear. My body's senses are betraying me… that can't happen. I rely on them entirely, for the sake of sanity. This may seem ludicrous of me, but I must ask… Am I hallucinating, John?"

Watson smirked at his friend, knowing that Sherlock was utterly confused and doubtful; Sherlock is never in doubt. John snickered.

"I'm afraid it's not the cocaine, Sherlock. We are truly back in the 19th bloody century."

Sherlock, frustrated, rolled his eyes at John and stomped over to sit in his chair. John started to laugh as he walked over to sit in his chair that was in front of Sherlock's.

"There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," John smiled.

Sherlock grimaced and glared at the doctor.

"Don't use my own words against me. You're a double-dealer yourself, John Watson," Sherlock snarled.

"Oh, really?" John grinned.

"It's legal," Sherlock stated.

"What?" John asked.

"The cocaine," Sherlock smiled. "It's legal. I'm allowed."

John rolled his eyes, but he knew that he got his friend in a better mood. John sat in agony while trying to think of a way to explain the impossible explanation to Sherlock Holmes. Having his friend believe him seemed unlikely. John looked about the room from his chair while he brainstormed where to begin. On top of the fireplace, John saw a gun that caught his attention. It looked awfully familiar. He got up to take a look at it, then he suddenly comprehended what he had to do. John Watson knew how to begin the explanation now. He quickly grabbed the gun. "Sherlock, help me pry open this floorboard," John demanded as he pointed at the floor.

Sherlock questioned him.

"What? Why?"

"Just do it. This one right here. It has to be this specific one," John dictated.

Both of them got down on their knees and started to tug on the loose floorboard. Sherlock quickly got up and ran into his bedroom. He came back out with a crowbar.

"Where the hell did you get that?" John asked. "You know what? Forget it, I don't want to know." He knew that it was best not to question Sherlock. He didn't always have the most pleasant answers. They finally got the floorboard ripped open, and John put the revolver into the floor. He covered it back up and Sherlock towered over him with the crowbar. John got up and took the crowbar from him. He led Sherlock to his chair and made him sit down. John then walked over and sunk into his chair with the crowbar in his hands. He took a deep breath and leaned forward. "This will all make sense by the time I'm done talking," John sighed. "At least, I hope so."

The boys of 221B did just as Scarlett predicted. They did the same, old adventures that Scarlett grew up reading. The adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson took place in the 1800's; same as when they were together in the 2000's. Since John Watson didn't have a blog anymore, he succumbed to handwritten journals. Sherlock was just as skeptical of them as he has always been. He's very judgmental of John's opinions of him. He never kept the journals in one tidy spot. He had them piled on desks, sitting in drawers, and displayed on bookshelves. One afternoon in 1882, John's awareness of his journals' whereabouts had heightened.

"Sherlock?" John questioned Sherlock that day. "Have you been snooping around my journals? Come on, where are they? I'm not in the mood to play games."

Standing by the fireplace with his pipe, Sherlock breathed.

"I don't touch your diaries, John. They're aren't what I'd postulate as a captivating read. I have about as much tolerance for your reflections of my enquiries as a wife does for her deceitful spouse. It's not my fault that you can't recollect where you've placed them."

John rolled his eyes.

John did not let up on his writings, but to his displeasure, they continued to disappear over the years. He continued to stress the inevitable fact that the journals were definitely gone from the flat. Sherlock, on the other hand, found it amusing. John complained for years, but Sherlock could've cared less and shrugged it off as John's problem. It wasn't Sherlock's responsibility to keep his friend's belongings neat and tidy. After all, Sherlock isn't exactly a 'neat –freak' himself. In the year 1886, Sherlock came to realize that John's little mishaps weren't really his fault at all. One evening, during the early months of the year, Watson and Holmes came back to their flat after a minor case that they had been working on with Lestrade. As soon as Sherlock came in through the doorway, he paused and took in a whiff of air. John turned around to face him with a questioning look on his face.

"Someone else has been in here, John. I can smell them," Sherlock stated.

He started to put two and two together.

"Someone has been sneaking in here and taking your journals. Oh, whoever it is… they're good. Too good, in fact. They haven't moved the slightest speck of dust except for those journals, wherever they had been. The man has never worn cologne before, knowing that it would leave a scent. I'd like to know why he left a scent behind this time. He knows that you know, John. He wants recognition and attention now, and he knows how to get mine," Sherlock smiled. "… and he certainly has it."

John left his jaw drop.

"I've worked hard on those!" John complained.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted.

He didn't get a response so that meant that she was probably out. He groaned.

"What's the use of having a landlady if the lady is never on her land? It looks like she won't be of any use. He doesn't look like he's snuck in through the windows, so he must've just moseyed his way up here. Mrs. Hudson might let him in on occasion. He might've even claimed to be a client, as long as she let him in. God knows, she'd leave the front door open. Anyone could find their way up here. He probably tempered with our lock…"

Sherlock turned about to examine their door handle. John wasn't even listening to his friend's deductions. He was lost in his own train of thoughts. John was angry at first, but now he started to more light-hearted.

"Maybe someone's interested in my work," John grinned to himself.

Sherlock looked up at him.

"Don't flatter yourself," Sherlock said. "He's interested in me… Brilliant! Something to look forward to."

In 1887, while walking the streets of London, John Watson came to a halt. He saw a novel in a bookstore windowsill that caught his immediate attention. He bombarded through the shop's door and bought the novel from the display window. He ran to 221B as quickly as he could. He kicked through the flat's door and burst into the room with a furious temper. Sherlock looked up at him from his chair. He was in the middle of having a smoke.

"You were right!" He exclaimed to Sherlock. "Someone did steal my journals, the cock! That's copyright, you know. I'll hunt him down myself," John raged.

"Calm down, Watson. It doesn't suit you," Sherlock smirked.

He pried the book from John's hands and looked at it. Sherlock whispered.

"Arthur Conan Doyle? So that's the man who's been breaking in here for all these years… Looks like we'll have to track him down together."

John glared at him with his white-knuckled hands clenched in fists.

"I hope you plan on holding me the moment we meet this guy," John sighed, trying to calm down. Sherlock grinned as he jumped up from his chair. He strutted towards the door, grabbed his coat, and put on his deerstalker. Excitedly, Sherlock exclaimed:

"What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence. The question is: what can you make people believe you have done? Watson, the game is on!"


	15. Episode 14

**Episode 14:**

**Basil of Baker Street**

In 2011, Scarlett still stood in front of the bookstore. She slowly walked back to Baker Street. She recalled leaving the Doctor behind, but she assumed that he was smart enough to leave. As she was walking back, she arrived at the corner where the T.A.R.D.I.S. should've been parked. The Doctor did, indeed, leave. He left her behind as well, but she wasn't too worried about whether or not he'd come back for her. She knew him well enough… she just wasn't sure when or where he'd return. There was nothing left to do but wait. Scarlett turned the corner and headed to 221B. As she walked, she spotted a police cruiser parked outside of the apartment. The vehicle was empty. Of course, it was empty. They're vital characters in the Sherlock Holmes stories as well. She knew that they had gone inside and were taken by the angel, but she wondered why they showed up in the first place. Scarlett briskly walked to the vacant car and looked inside. There was a file sitting on the passenger's seat. She opened the unlocked driver's door and sat down in order to avoid the rain while she snooped. She opened the file to see what it contained. It was a personal profile of the man that she shot in the café; she recognized the picture right away. The police must've just finally figured out his identity. The second thing she noticed was the name: James Moriarty.

Scarlett sat on the doorstep of 221B in the pouring rain with her head buried in her legs while waiting for the Doctor. A Johnny Lee Miller-faced Sherlock Holmes came around the corner of Baker Street with his hands in his pockets. He slowly approached her while getting drenched in the rain as well. He sat down beside her on the step.

"You're a new one," she emotionlessly mumbled.

"Good God, don't act happy to see me or anything," Sherlock groaned.

Scarlett just looked up to examine his face then let her eyes drift down towards the pavement.

"I'm here to cheer you up so cheer up," he pleaded as he awkwardly tried to pat her back as he has seem other people do in comforting situations. "Please?"

"I'm not in the mood," she replied. "Can you just go?"

Sherlock gave her half a smile and got up to leave.

As soon as he turned the corner, the T.A.R.D.I.S. materialized in front of her. When he opened the door, he wasn't the cheery Doctor that she had always known. The expression on his face made her think. In fact, he hasn't been himself at all since they've landed in London; not at all. She was so focused on figuring out who Sherlock Holmes was that she didn't realize that the Doctor wasn't trying to do the same. Scarlett stared at him while he slowly approached her. They didn't say anything to each other for several minutes. The Doctor just towered over Scarlett in silence. She sighed.

"You have a grand gift for silence, Doctor. It makes you quite invaluable as a companion. I know who the victim is. I know who Sherlock Holmes is. You had something to do with all of this, but I don't know how. I never know. I'm not even going to ask questions, but you're going to give me answers. I see it in your eyes. You had something to do with all this, and you didn't tell me. You feel guilty… you have to. Tell me."

The Doctor took a seat next to Scarlett and thought about how to begin.

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but 'actually' from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint…"

Scarlett looked up from the ground to gaze into the empty street as she braced herself for one of the Doctor's unhelpful explanations. But when she lifted her head, she didn't see an empty street like she expected. Her eyes widened when she saw a Robert Downey Jr.-faced Sherlock Holmes sitting on the doorstep of a flat on the opposite side of the street. He was silently watching her as she listened to the Doctor's explanation. That face was new to her as well but still knew it was Mr. Holmes. Annoyed by the being confused by everything and seeing another new face for Sherlock, she quickly interrupted the Doctor as she tried to ignore the imaginary man that was judging her from across the street.

"Cut the wibbly wobbly, time-y wimey stuff with me, Doctor. You've told me all that before. You're so used to explaining time travel to your 'companions' that you say the same exact words. I know how it works, Doctor. I just want you to tell me exactly what happened," Scarlett interrupted. "Well, Scarlett," the Doctor continued. "You understand the fact that the people we met here in 2011 were the fictional characters from your books, correct? I don't have to further explain the weeping angels?"

Scarlett nodded.

"Yes, I have one quick question, since you brought it up. What do you plan on doing with this angel in the flat behind us?"

The Doctor looked back at the door and then back at Scarlett.

"The angel won't be a problem once we leave," the Doctor stated. "You were right, this flat doesn't exist. At least, it doesn't anymore. There are no flats that go up to 221B on Baker Street. It's only 221B, because it's where the 1800's Sherlock Holmes lived in his fictional books. Once the two of us leave this period, this place will be labeled as 221B, but only because the Sherlock Holmes Museum will have taken its place in the store next to it. No one will come, because the flat will be part of the museum's display. The café area is the walk-through museum, but the door that claims the apartment number will only be on display; no one goes in. Right now, it's the Speedy's café, but it will go back to the museum that you originally thought was here as a child. No one will ever go into this boarding house again, so the angel cannot gather energy from any more victims. Electric sources will only last for the angel for so long before it starts to deteriorate. The angel will become a piece of fiction… same as the flat 221B."

Scarlett shook her head.

"I'm going to assume what you said made sense."

The Doctor lighted up a little and grinned.

"Wibbly wobbly, time-y wimey."

That got a small smile out of her. However, the Doctor's small grin went away as he continued.

"I realized, same as you, that Sherlock and John were the real deal… so I thought to myself 'who wrote the books?' I thought hard but not long. You were already out the door, heading to the bookstore tonight, when it hit me. I thought hard, Scarlett, I really did. I'm not… proud," the Doctor's voice started to trail off. He blinked a couple of times, like he was trying to re-focus on what he was initially talking about. He sustained, "Moriarty is Sherlock's greatest nemesis; the consulting detective versus the consulting criminal. One cannot exist without the other. If Sherlock did not have Moriarty, there'd be no Sherlock. Without you, Scarlett, there'd be no Sherlock. Are you following me?" the Doctor paused.

Scarlett nodded. Suddenly, her brain started to brush up dust, and she began to recall all that Sherlock Holmes research that she obsessed over years ago.

"Yes… to an extent. I understand the first statement… Without Moriarty, there can be no Sherlock Holmes. Leslie Bricusse's musical had a number explaining the relationship: 'Without evil, there can be no good of great degree… David fought many battles, but it is for Goliath that he is remembered.' It's true that they're interdependent on each other. The death of Professor Moriarty led to the continuance of the books: 'The Return of Sherlock Holmes'. Sherlock's fame grew and expanded until all the characters became timeless. The professor only showed up in one story, but he led to the popularity of Mr. Holmes as a storybook character. I don't understand your second statement… exactly. From what I see, it's my fault that Sherlock Holmes got sent back in time, because I killed Moriarty in the café. If I didn't do that, Holmes wouldn't have gotten sent back, right? Moriarty wouldn't have been murdered, so there wouldn't be any evidence in Sherlock's flat with a picture of the weeping angel. I caused that to happen."

The Doctor put his hand on top of her head and ruffled her hair.

"You're right… somewhat."

He took his hand off her head as she swatted it away.

"Don't do that. It makes me feel childish," she snapped.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead as he continued his explanation.

"We didn't know at first that that man was Moriarty in 2011. You shot him. Correct, he was the one that took the picture of the angel from the statue in Rome. James Moriarty knew that these events would occur if you murdered him…"

Scarlett looked at him in confusion. The Doctor looked back at her with sympathetic eyes. He brokenly whispered.

"He knew because I told him."

Scarlett never lost eye contact with him. She didn't even blink. She just blankly stared at him as he regained himself to continue.

"I went back to 1891 after you ran frantically to the bookstore," the Doctor coldly stated. "So that I could find out who Arthur Conan Doyle was. You and I both thought that he was a physician. It turns out that the author revealed his true name to Sherlock Holmes as Professor James Moriarty. Apparently, he had been breaking into their flat in order to obtain information regarding Holmes and his connections, skills, and authority on police affairs. He stole John's journals to get his hands on as much knowledge about the detective as possible. Moriarty considered himself a criminal mastermind. He had control of London and the crimes that took place in it. Sherlock Holmes had been on his trail for years and was getting closer to finding the source, but he just didn't know it. Moriarty grew cautious of Holmes and wanted to play games with him… He knew a man like Holmes had to have an extraordinary mind to be able to get this far up the hierarchy of Moriarty's web. Holmes fascinated him by the fact that Holmes had such success from using just deductive, as well as abductive, reasoning. Mind you, it took a while for Sherlock to catch onto him. The professor had an older brother, mind you. A Colonel, actually, that worked as a station master before he traveled to America. He was on one of the first steamboats to even travel there, I believe. There's very little record of him… Unfortunately, however, he had to go back to England for testaments when everyone assumed he fell to his death at the Reichenbach Waterfall. This man threw Mr. Holmes off for a little while until the professor approached Mr. Holmes himself. Moriarty revealed his suspicion of him to Holmes himself, and they inspired each other into playing the game."

Scarlett stared at him with a blank look. The Doctor continued.

"Now, what Moriarty didn't tell Sherlock was that I told him to publish the journals so that you, Scarlett, could grow up reading them. I disguised myself as a publisher which was rather exciting, by the way… Never done that before. With a little help from me, you became the woman who was destined to help kill Sherlock Holmes. You see, Moriarty's original plan was to kill Sherlock when they both battled and fell from the Reichenbach Falls… as you've read in the story, 'The Final Problem'. The event, as you now know, really did happen. The twist is that I actually saved Moriarty. He didn't actually fall to his death. I caught him in the T.A.R.D.I.S. as he was falling. By doing this, I dropped him off in Rome in 2011, explaining that he had to take the picture of the angel alone, go to London, and go to the café. Don't worry, before you get confused, he had to give out personal information in order to enter England. It just took the authorities awhile to get ahold of it. He was smart enough not to keep any of it on his person. I told him that you would shoot him, and the evidence would go to the flat of Sherlock Holmes for evaluation. I explained the weeping angels to him so that he would then understand how the angel picture will develop into a non-quantum-locked weeping angel, and that'll put Sherlock Holmes back in time where Moriarty originally existed. Once 1891 came around, he would reveal his true name to Holmes, and he could successfully kill Sherlock at the waterfall which occurred through a series of events that Moriarty and Sherlock shared up until that point in time. I showed him the story, 'The Final Problem' to prove that what I said was true. He didn't have much of a choice but to believe me. I literally picked him up in a time machine and sent him over 100 years into his future. Plus, he flipped out a bit when he realized that I was the publisher. It all started to piece together for him, so he wasn't hard to persuade. He's insane enough. All Moriarty's success of killing Sherlock would've been possible as long as he was sent to the future and willing to get shot just for the sake of killing Sherlock Holmes in 1891… which he was very willing. I made it perfectly clear when I persuaded him to publish the books that the only reason Sherlock existed in 1891 was because you shot him in 2011."

Scarlett continued to stare.

"Now, as you know, Scarlett, Sherlock survives the fall as explained in the 'Return of Sherlock Holmes' stories. Moriarty is officially dead. You shot him in 2011. However, if Moriarty didn't write the rest of the stories after the fall, who did? Why, John Watson, of course!" the Doctor smiled as he tried to lighten up the news.

"He continued to write under the penname of Arthur Conan Doyle. While Moriarty was Doyle, before he had tried to kill Sherlock, he made an author's statement to the public, saying that he would consider his life a failure if he is only remembered as the man who created Sherlock Holmes come 100 years from then. So, as an author, he claimed that the next book, entitled 'The Final Problem' was his attempt to kill off the character of Sherlock Holmes. Realistically, of course, he literally intended to kill him. The fake author had to make a statement for an excuse as to why the books would cease to continue. He previously made plans with his assistant, Sebastian Moran, to publish the book under the penname, since Moriarty himself would be considered dead at the end of the book… He intended to die along with Sherlock Holmes. He knew that the book had to be published in order for these events to occur, so he made that arrangement with Moran. Thanks to me, that didn't happen as planned. Later, in the 1890's, Sherlock Holmes survived and returned. John continued writing and publishing their adventures under the penname. John really was a doctor, of course. It only makes sense that Doyle is remembered as a physician who was wrote stories about a detective. Moriarty had no clue that Sherlock would survive the fall. He didn't survive long enough in 2011 to ever find out about the other books. Moriarty lost, Scarlett. All thanks to you. John took pride in those books. He didn't mind that they'd be remembered as fictional characters. The public eye wasn't good for Sherlock's reputation anyway. He knew the efforts of himself and his friend would be appreciated, because he saw it in you. The legacy and memory of Sherlock's life will remembered through the people like you who have dedicated their lives to these books. He's proud that the penname of Doyle is only remembered for Sherlock Holmes. The real man, Moriarty, who claimed the identity of Doyle was rubbish. The penname is now remembered for the opposite of what Moriarty wanted."

Scarlett tried getting her thoughts together but the process only got her upset.

"The all-powerful Doctor, trying to play God, are you? You knew that I was going to kill Moriarty the very first day… the very first day I met you! You were just introducing yourself to me for the first time… a few minutes ago, weren't you? You left 221B, saved Moriarty from the fall, told him about me and my childhood, dropped him off in 2011, then you went back to 1979 to pick up my passed out body behind the grocery store. This is you, when you introduced yourself and dematerialized in your flying box until I finally came with you when you came back at Thanksgiving! That's gold, Doctor, kudos to you."

She started to shout.

"You knew before I even agreed to come with you! You knew to land the T.A.R.D.I.S. in front of the café, because you knew I'd run out to investigate when we heard the gunshot. You pulled me from the scene when I pulled the trigger, because you knew our past selves would run out of the T.A.R.D.I.S. and run up to the café window. You didn't want our past selves to see our future selves. You knew you had to introduce yourself to me somehow, and you took the advantage the first day here when you went back in time to get the damn milk from me. You knew everything! I lied, Doctor. I do have a question… Just one question for you. A question that you've failed to explain to me."

Scarlett looked pitifully up at the Doctor. He knew what she was about to ask. All his companions do at one point or another.

"Why me, Doctor?"


	16. Episode 15

**Episode 15:**

**The Game is Never Over**

"You were at the wrong place at the wrong time," the Doctor said. "We are all in the wrong place at the wrong time. Life would be so predictable if we were at the right place at the right time."

The Doctor gave her a weak grin. Scarlett groaned.

"I sometimes think the opposite when traveling with you. Everything is a paradox, isn't it? We are a product of ourselves."

"I wouldn't say a paradox, per say…More like wibbly wobbly, time-y wimey," he laughed.

She weakly smiled along with him… even with the precariousness of it all. The Doctor knew that she was still uneasy and squeezed his arm tighter around her.

"To put it simply, my dear Scarlett, you made yourself through these events. You grew up reading the stories, you devoted yourself to the character, and you made the books possible through what had happened here. Scarlett Bathurst, you are Sherlock Holmes. You once thought you painted the whole picture. You're right. You do, but you also observe it. You're your own critic. The question isn't how you're going to finish the picture the way you want… The question is: Where did you get the inspiration? The paints, the canvas? You got it yourself and made your own picture."

"You know, Doctor, for once I actually understand one of your metaphors," she chuckled.

She felt a little bit better. The Doctor ruffled her hair again.

"You know, Sherlock and John knew it too: How vital you were to Sherlock's legacy and his self-esteem. It's nice that they left you that tribute."

Scarlett's eyes lit up.

"Tribute? What tribute?" she asked, confused but excited.

The Doctor gave her a weird look.

"I thought it was quite obvious," he smirked.

"Well," she snapped. "It isn't! Tell me, Doctor, or so help me…"

She may be in a better mood, but she wasn't messing around. The Doctor grinned the biggest grin yet.

"A Study in Scarlet," the Doctor beamed. "You know his techniques. He just uses a red thread to keep his thoughts organized. He creates a web to link his documents and photographs so that he has a visual of what connects with what. He has destroyed his flat's wall plenty of times doing this procedure. John and Sherlock agreed to use his technique as a metaphor in John's journals. You know how much Sherlock snoops. He may have claimed that he didn't read John's journals, but John knew he did. They didn't know they'd be published, but they wanted to contribute your name to their adventures somehow! It wasn't a coincidence that John didn't merely describe it as 'red' thread. And it wasn't a coincidence that Sherlock didn't say 'red' either. To quote Sherlock Holmes, 'There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it'. He was talking about you, my dear! You are the thread that you followed in order to reveal the truth behind Sherlock's legacy and the purpose of who you are. By going through these events, you did just that. You exposed every inch of yourself. You're the real thread of murders of Sherlock's life. You made him who he is and discovered yourself in the process. I really can't explain it any better than that, Scarlett."

The Doctor knew she'd have to let it all sink in. He was willing to wait a little while before he tried to cheer her up again. He gripped her shoulder a little tighter and smiled.

"Basil of Baker Street. To think, it all started with a mouse. I should just call you Walt Disney." Scarlett laughed at that. Then she found that she couldn't stop laughing. She started both laughing and crying. The Doctor wasn't very good with this emotional stuff and felt uncomfortable. He jumped up and got excited.

"Now before you go insane, I think you need a break. I know! A vacation! That Italy idea isn't sounding too bad right now!"

He backed up toward the T.A.R.D.I.S. He opened the T.A.R.D.I.S. doors with the snap of his fingers and stuck out his hand for Scarlett to take ahold. The light from the interior beamed out into the gloomy street and shone a beckon of gold on the door of 221B. She slowly stood up and had to balance herself. She followed the blinding light and started to walk towards him. Both of them looked at each other and held hands in the rain. Scarlett stopped him from leading her inside.

"I want to go home, Doctor," she whispered.

Doctor knew this was coming. He always knew.

"Promise me one thing, Doctor," she continued. "One thing… I want you to come back for me. The day I don't see it. The day I don't see anything left to live for; when there's no more deductions to be made. When there's nothing else to look forward to. My life wasn't going anywhere before I met you, Doctor. And quite honestly, it still isn't going to any specific destination. But you made me appreciate and enjoy life for what it is… not for what I pretended it was. I tried finding something special in something absolutely dull, but you made me realize that I don't need to… because it's not dull at all! It's extraordinary, everything is. Existence is phenomenal. I see life like that when I'm with you. Come back for me the day I stop being Sherlock Holmes."

The Doctor nodded his head in agreement.

"I don't see why you even asked me questions in the first place when you can answer them yourself. You asked, 'Why me, Doctor?'", the Doctor told her. "That's how I see life when I'm with you, Scarlett. When the whole universe is your front-yard, what do you have? A front-yard. It's dull, and even extraordinary, but I just can't see it anymore. Not alone. When I'm with you, my companions, you see how extraordinary it is. I can only see it if you see it. I see it through you. When you say you see it through me, it's not completely true. You see it through a reflection of yourself."

He let go of her hand as he stepped inside back inside... not beckoning for her to come along. She was going to step inside on her own freewill. After taking one step inside the machine, she turned around to look at 221B one last time. Her body was blocking the T.A.R.D.I.S.'s light, and the shadow of her figure could be seen on the flat's door. Unexpectedly, the flat door started to open, and Scarlett could see someone stepping out into the spotlight. At first, she was shocked that someone was still in the building, but then she smiled as she saw who it was. The person that stepped in front of the door stood directly in the shadow. Her imaginary friend was the person who came out the door; it was herself as Sherlock Holmes. The Scarlett Bathurst-faced Sherlock Holmes waved goodbye to herself as the real Scarlett proceeded to enter the machine. Scarlett Bathurst waved back to Sherlock as she closed the T.A.R.D.I.S. door and left her imaginary friend behind on the gloomy streets of London forever. Sherlock Holmes was home now and not locked in a treasure chest to be neglected and forgotten.

The Doctor dropped her off before sunrise the morning after Thanksgiving, 1979. Her grandmother didn't even notice that she had been gone all night. Scarlett had been gone for a couple years but she was only one night away from her grandmother. As the two of them walked hand-in-hand into the house, the Doctor froze at the doorframe of the front door. Scarlett turned as she questioned his state of mind. Blinking and squinting his eyes as if he'd just remembered a painful memory, he took a small step inside and looked at his friend.

"Where is that letter?" he asked quietly.

"Pardon?"

"The letter I wrote to you years ago. Do you remember where you kept it?"

Scarlett paused a moment to think about it.

"I believe it's still in my grandmother's teapot in the kitchen. Why do you ask?" she whispered back.

"I'd like to see this teapot of hers," he requested as he made his way into the kitchen in the dark.

Shining through the windows, the light of the moon was the only light source the Doctor relied on as he walked right past all the light switches. His mind was more concentrated on other matters. Scarlett walked in front of him as she made her way to the cabinet that contained the teapot. Stretching up on her tip-toes to reach it, the Doctor looked around for some kind of distraction. Once his friend set the pottery down onto the countertops, the Doctor immediately spoke up:

"So this is it, hm? The chamber that concealed the all persuasive letter. Now that I'm thinking about it, would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Anything, Doctor," Scarlett asked curiously and quietly.

"Considering this is the last time I'm going to be seeing you for a very, very long while, could I see your Sherlock Holmes novels? I'll… I'll look for the letter while you go get them."

Scarlett didn't move from her spot as she was very suspicious of him.

"Please," the Doctor begged with a sincere smile on his face, "I just want to see what made you… well, you. This letter… those books… they kind of started it all for you, didn't they?"

Scarlett treasured his sudden sentimentality and snuck out of the kitchen in order to reach her old bedroom. The Doctor's fake smile quickly faded as he rushed over to the teapot and frantically hunted through the documents. Gathering up all the medical records he could find, he quickly scanned for any blood-test results, such as recordings of both Mrs. and Mr. Douglas Bathurst's type 'A' blood and their son's type 'B'. An ancient letter addressed to a Colonel also caught the Doctor's attention. He stuffed both of the letters and a few of the other documents into one of his coat pockets without Scarlett there to witness it. Quietly placing the lid back onto the pot, he lifted it back into the cabinet and shut the door. His friend's figure could be seen in the darkness of the connecting living room as she snuck her way back into the kitchen with her arms filled with her childhood novels. The Doctor put the smile back on his face.

"That silly, old letter was an invitation to the greatest adventure of a lifetime," the Doctor boasted. "I suppose the 'important documents' teapot is the most proper place for it."

Scarlett grinned as pride beamed from her smile but struggled as she handed him her most treasured possessions. The Doctor took them in his hands and stroked the spines of four of her books. With a poker face, he stared into her eyes as he thought of what to say. If Scarlett were to describe his facial features, it would be that of regret.

"I think I should hold onto these," he whispered.

Scarlett's heart had just shot up into her throat.

"N… no, no," she stammered in disbelief as she reached her hands out to snatch them from his greedy clutch.

He gripped onto them even tighter so that she could not rip them from his arms.

"Give them back to me," she demanded.

"Lower your voice, Miss Bathurst, unless you want to wake up your grandmother," the Doctor reminded her.

"Not until you hand them over," she commanded as she outstretched her arm.

"If you want to move forward with your life, you should get rid of all the negatives that were always there."

"Negatives? These were the greatest years of my life."

"And also the worst."

Scarlett didn't really know how to respond to that. His approach to her was completely unexpected and uncalled for. Heartbreakingly, to her dismay, she could not deny that he was right. Slowly handing him the books, she couldn't help but shed a tear.

"You can take them away from me, but you cannot get rid of the memories that are implanted forever inside of me," she cried.

"My, my," the Doctor frowned, "you've got so much more to learn ahead of you. Humans have the worst memories. You tend to forget everything at some point in time."

"That's not really cheering me up any," she moaned.

"That's not my job," he responded.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm vain, Scarlett. I warned you from the start. The plain fact of it is… I'm just a mad man with a box," the Doctor stated as he sauntered himself outside with the books cradled in his arms.

Scarlett didn't make an emotional goodbye. She knew the Doctor lies… that was rule number one. But she kept his promise close to her heart and believed that he would come back for her someday, if the day ever came. The Doctor and Scarlett exchanged hugs and kisses, and they waved each other goodbye. Scarlett stood at her front door, waving, while the T.A.R.D.I.S. dematerialized to some unknown corner of the universe. She couldn't help but shed a few more tears that night, knowing that she was stuck in this particular corner.

Scarlett's grandmother passed away during the winter of 1984. Insurance covered most of the expenses, but it still put her in some financial difficulties. Scarlett officially owned the home now, and it was lonely. She still had her job and her good friend, Anita. She had the honor of being Anita's maid of honor during the summer of 1985. Scarlett was so proud of her. She always saw her as a princess. Oh, posh Anita. Now she really was posh. She married a bachelor by the name of Lovell. Mrs. Anita Lovell; it fit her. She always saw Anita as a bit thick, but she has been her dearest friend for the remainder of Anita's days. Unfortunately, she only had a few left after the marriage. The honeymoon didn't last too long. Authorities found Anita's body at some fancy hotel in Hawaii. It turned out that Mr. Lovell discovered that Anita was incapable of having children. Scarlett guessed that Anita found a real, old-fashioned Prince Charming like she always wanted. Apparently, the value of a son's life was more important to him than his wife's. This case was much too personal. Scarlett didn't jump at the chance to look into it. She couldn't afford the trip and, quite frankly, she didn't care. Finding Mr. Lovell and convicting him wasn't her job. Not traveling with a 2,000 year old alien can give someone a sense of reality… and an understanding of someone's abilities and limitations used to overcome boundaries.

The most important people in her life were gone. There wasn't anything worth looking into. Depression stayed with Scarlett. She knew it would only get worse if she let it. She had to amuse herself somehow. Lack of human contact wasn't her problem. She still repelled the human race to an extent. She went into town and joined a book club. She looked up recipes for each week. She went out for walks and got promoted at work. She even went the illegal route and got high on occasion. She did all these random things that she only dreamed of doing as a child. She would've been thrilled as a child, but now it was just an excuse to not be bored. She tried doing things that would make life seem fulfilling, but it wasn't. Not really. There was only one thing left in the world to do when people were bored in that day and age: Watch television. She had invested in a television years before, but she never touched it. She expected herself to hate it after watching everyone else in the world become engrossed by it. The outcome was quite the opposite. The shows, the movies… she found herself obsessed. She'd follow actors and their personal lives. She'd collect merchandise galore. Her life revolved around the media, since there was nothing else for her to live for. She substituted the boredom with new fictional characters and celebrities like she did as a child. It was to fill a trench that she dug herself into… And she absolutely loved it.

The summer of 1994 came along, and Scarlett was 40 years old: A single woman who worked 5 days a week and watched television every day after work. She was completely content with that. She worked hard all day and rewarded herself the best way she could by watching her favorite program. On July 18th, the day before her 41st birthday, she was enjoying her favorite show until she heard a familiar noise. The Doctor came back. Scarlett had heard the T.A.R.D.I.S. materialize in the front-yard, and she quickly ran out to greet him. He peeped his head out the door and stuck his hand out for her once again.

"All of time and space; everywhere and anywhere; every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?"

Scarlett ran away with the Doctor again for the last time. She had no intention of going home.

"I see you kept your promise!" she smiled. "But I was perfectly happy, Doctor! When I saw you last, I was traumatized by reality. I didn't think life could be an enjoyable experience after you. I admit, I did want to see you again, but I didn't think the day would come when I'd be that finished with the dullness of life. I'm not! I enjoy my life, and I'm content," she explained.

The Doctor spoke to her as he played with the consul.

"A friend once told me that 'when you're a kid, they tell you it's all… grow up, get a job, get married, get a house, have a kid, and that's it. But the truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It's so much darker, and so much madder. And so much better'. Scarlett, my dear, you gave up on life the day you succumbed to a 'content' lifestyle. I'm here to help you remember your true self: Sherlock Holmes! The game is on, Scarlett. Let's go on that vacation!"

Scarlett looked at him with a sour grin.

"Doctor?" she mumbled.

He looked back at her and noticed her change in expression.

"You just dropped me off at my front door that Friday morning in 1979, didn't you?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You seem different than you did then," he said as he faked a smile.

"I don't like that," Scarlett protested.

"I don't like how you can just skip ahead 15 years of my only life in a matter of seconds. It's a horrible thing, you know?" she stated with tears building up in her eyes.

"The existence of everything… It's just time and space. That's all it is. I take up space for a certain amount of time… about as long as it takes for my body to decompose. I'm not trying to be morbid, Doctor, but I am trying to be realistic. You made me embrace my epiphany with Sherlock Holmes. I realized that I can make such an enormous impact on my life as well as others'. I feel so… important. I felt more imperative in the scheme of things such as life itself. Living alone had made me think about the opposite of everything you've taught me to embrace. I'm so… unimportant. I take up time and space but for what purpose? My own life? What does that even mean, Doctor? Especially your life with us humans. You'll live forever, and we die off so much quicker than you… it must be infinity in comparison. What am I doing here?"

Scarlett was full-on crying now. The Doctor looked down at her in pity.

"If you're asking me the meaning of life and existence, I'm afraid that I don't have an answer." That was the best answer that he could give her.

"I'll tell you what I do know," he said as he pulled her to a chair around the consul. "I told her a story… a little girl who had the same problem. I believe that she had kept that story near and dear to her heart. Would you like me to tell you the story, Scarlett? I know you like stories," the Doctor asked graciously.

Scarlett wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. He kneeled down in front of her so that he was below her. He looked up into her eyes.

"All the elements in your body were forged many, many millions of years ago in the heart of a faraway star that exploded and died. That explosion scattered those elements across the desolations of deep space. After so, so many millions of years, these elements came together to form new stars and new planets. And on and on it went. The elements came together and burst apart, forming shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings. Until, eventually, they came together to make you. You are unique in the universe. There is only one Scarlett Bathurst. And there will never be another. Getting rid of that existence isn't a sacrifice, it's a waste! Scarlett, don't ever feel like you need to give up your space and time in this existence in order to make room for another who has the same unknown purpose! You are not less important than anyone or anything else. No one truly knows the reason for existence, my dear. And I'll tell you what… In over 900 years of time and space, I've never met anyone who was unimportant."

Scarlett didn't resist the urge to embrace him. They hugged, and knowing the Doctor, he stood up with Scarlett in his arms. He picked her off the chair and practically swung her around. She started to giggle as he did this, because she knew he was trying to make her feel better.

"You realize that you just quoted 'Through the Looking-Glass', right?" she laughed.

"No, I quoted myself," he laughed back.

"You're such a child," Scarlett stated.

"What's the point of being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes?" he rhetorically asked.

The two of them went on more adventures together. Some of them were dangerous while some were rather relaxing; and some were just plain ridiculous. The Doctor even let Scarlett wander off wherever she liked. He taught her how to fly the T.A.R.D.I.S., to a certain degree. He'd land them wherever and whenever she'd like and let her go explore by herself. He found it easier not to wander outside of his machine with her… as the years went on. No matter what the journey had in store, Scarlett felt eternal. The bittersweet answers to her impossible questions laid at rest. The Doctor made an exception for his dear Scarlett. She wanted to stay with him forever, and that's what she did. They traveled the galaxies together for years and years. They explored all of time and space up until Scarlett's very last day of existence. They could only do so much as she aged. The Doctor loathed every moment of it. He despises goodbyes and endings. But if nothing ever ended, how could anything get started? He knew how much this never-ending excitement meant for Scarlett. He knew that he had to say goodbye someday. He eventually has to say goodbye to everyone he ever meets. He just didn't like to slowly watch it happen.

An 80 year old Scarlett spoke up to the Doctor one day in the T.A.R.D.I.S.

"Doctor, I know where I'd like to go today," she said. "I want to meet Basil Rathbone. Can we, please? I liked the Hound of Baskervilles. 1939, isn't it? Please, I wanted to marry him years ago! He was my real-life Basil of Baker Street, don't cha' know?"

The Doctor chuckled at her request.

"Of course, we'll go wherever you like. You always get what you want," he smiled.

He had a different smile. The Doctor wasn't the old man she knew from her youth. He regenerated a few years back, to Scarlett's surprise. He explained the Timelord concept, but it was still a shock to witness the change. He just wasn't the same to her, but at the same time, he was.

The Doctor knew what Scarlett was doing. She hadn't brought up the subject of Sherlock Holmes since the 2011 incident. He only feared the worst. He did what she asked and took her to the studio where the film was produced. She met her Basil. The Doctor hadn't seen her so delighted in years. Once their small visit was over, Scarlett shuffled her way to her bedroom in the T.A.R.D.I.S. The Doctor watched her from behind as he shut the front doors of his machine. He put his hands in his pockets and kept his distance as he followed her. It was time.

The Doctor began to have a panic attack – an internal struggle. Originally, his intentions were to drop her off at home and let her live a normal life. The kind of life he could never have. However, it's obvious that Scarlett would've been absolutely miserable in he had done that. Instead, he made a more personal sacrifice that would damage his well-being even more: he kept her with him. The Doctor had to say good-bye. If there's anything that the Doctor's fear more than death itself, it's having to say good-bye forever. Dropping off his companions to live out a normal life isn't what any of them wants; it's not out of the kindness of his hearts. It's the Doctor's way of avoiding good-byes; to lie to himself that he could possibly go visit them if he so pleased. Although he never would, that window of opportunity would always be there. For Scarlett, there is no window. Knowing that this was the end, he panicked as to whether or not to tell Scarlett the truth behind her companionship.

The Doctor told Scarlett that there is no such thing as coincidences. However, he wanted her to believe that he randomly chose her to travel with him. His reason being that he is lonely and vain. That may be true, but that's not why he chose her. Scarlett Bathurst wouldn't be alive if the two of them didn't bring about the events to send Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson back in time. The reason the Doctor gave Scarlett was that making the books possible made Scarlett possible; the character from the books influenced her and made her who she is today. That's not the reality of the situation, it's the sentimental part. She could've grown up in any circumstance with any influence and still would've been a living, breathing person. The truth is that Scarlett Bathurst is a descent from both James Moriarty and Dr. John Watson. She would not exist if it wasn't for their journey together. The Doctor chose Scarlett as a companion because it was the only way he could save her. The Doctor could've left her alone and let her not exist at all along with the Sherlock Holmes novels. That would seem like no big deal: No novels, no short stories, no movies, no nothing Sherlock Holmes. The world could survive without a single fictional character. However, the Doctor had already involved himself too much in Scarlett's live before she even realized that she met him. He thought about this whole situation carefully. First off, the event of sending Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and Mycroft back in time was already a fixed point along with bringing Moriarty to the future. One of the laws of the TimeLords state that fixed points cannot be written. Through previous experience trying to break that rule, the Doctor has realized that changing fixed points is extremely risky. They might work out or perhaps stay fixed and occur through different events with the same result at the end. Why bother trying to change a fix point when the result will most likely be the same no matter what? Secondly, however, the Doctor's previous companions, Amy and Rory, traveled with the previous incarnation of himself. A dangerous endeavor against some monsters that go 'bump' in the night led the three of them to an apartment on Union Street. If Scarlett hadn't knocked on that door on Halloween of 1968, then who knows what would've happened to the three of them if they didn't stop to answer the door? The Doctor didn't want to risk changing his own timeline that he had with Amy and Rory. The thought of changing even a second of his time with them is too heartbreaking to him. Besides, the Doctor has already used Sherlock Holmes disguises on many different cases. If you get rid of the character, he'd be messing up those timelines as well. Lives could depend on that get-up. The Doctor had concluded that not changing this fixed point in time was for the best. Not because he cared about Scarlett's existence… it's because he cared about his own. He is a vain man; he warned her from the start.

Scarlett laid in her bed while the Doctor came over and sat on her bedside. Wanting Scarlett to have as much peace as possible, the Doctor decided not to tell her a thing. While holding his hand, she grinned and did something that she hadn't done in years. Playfully, she spoke aloud.

""There's an east wind coming, Doctor."

He smiled at her innocent statement and played along.

"I think not, Bathurst. It is very warm."

"Good old Doctor! You are the one fixed point in a changing age. There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Doctor, and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less, and a cleaner, better, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared," she said.

The Doctor took ahold of her hand.

"I think we've finally come to an agreement, Doctor," she weakly smiled. "I ran out of questions, because we both have the same answer!"

"Oh?" the Doctor asked. "And what answer would that be?"

"Sherlock knew the answer too. I think that's why he took the situation so calmly and never freaked out like I did. All my questions… all the questions I based my life upon… I always knew the answer. I knew the answer, because I made it so! I know the answer, Doctor."

He gripped her hand tighter as it grew weaker.

"What's the answer, Scarlett?" he asked impatiently.

She beamed as she searched for the nonexistent glimmer in his eyes:

"We're all stories in the end."

The Doctor had a tear in his eye as he smiled down at her.

"My dearest Scarlett, you are quite right," he sighed.

She continued to gaze up at him.

"Even you," she said warmly.

He tilted his head at her. She clarified:

"You silly man, I make history. You are the one to blame for my behavior. I didn't make my life happen, you did. You let me go wherever I chose and let me wander off by myself… multiple times! You didn't even bother to look into what I was doing. All you did was warn me not to get involved in major events that could lead to the destruction of life as we know it," she chuckled as she reminisced. "I recall telling you that 'London Bridge has no intention of falling down, so I won't try to force it'. On the other hand, I may have changed one tiny detail. During my years of television obsession, I may have written my own script for a show proposal. And I may have went back in time and picked it up… and I may have went further back in time and left it on the desk of a Mr. Sydney Newman, head of BBC Drama, in the year 1963. Oh, do try and see it. You'll love the characters I've created. You should give television a try, Doctor. It's not as pointless as you think," she said as her voice started to trail off. "Fictional characters make us who we are. To us, they're not fake at all; they are very much alive."

The Doctor held back the tears as he spoke:

"You have played the game of life, and it is now a story. I suppose you could consider me a co-writer. I'm sorry to say that this is how the game ends, and I believe you've won."

"Oh, Doctor," Scarlett sighed as she forced a weary grin. "Education never ends. It is a series of lessons with the greatest for last. Haven't you paid attention? You see but you do not observe. I am Sherlock Holmes. The game is never over and neither is the story. Life's a tragedy and nothing more."


	17. Episode 16

**Episode 16:**

**The Final Solution**

The Doctor debated about what he wanted to do with her body. He anguished about it for hours as he thought in the main control room of the T.A.R.D.I.S. The Doctor wasn't prone to willingly bringing up the memories of his past companions, because they brought him must discomfort. Once friends were gone, there were no possible ways to bring them back. He went through a tormented period when he traveled alone but Scarlett was an exception. She wasn't dropped off somewhere to live the rest of her life like he tried before. She also did not die in the line of battle or from a tragic mishap. She chose to live out her days with him; Scarlett preferred the company of a mad man than the tranquility of a typical, human life… the type of life the Doctor dreams of having but never will. She found it much too boring. Through her voyages with him, she had created herself from Sherlock Holmes. He made it clear for Scarlett to understand that fact, but he was just as oblivious as her. He thought long and hard about what she had told him before she passed away. He didn't focus strictly on what she wanted him to do. He had already planned on checking out her television show. He thought about her final words: 'You see, but you do not observe'. He stated to her years ago that she herself was Sherlock Holmes, so she wasn't pointing that out to him like she discovered that herself… she was talking about something completely different. The Doctor played the most vital part in the story, but he never thought of it that way. He thinks of himself as a vain, mad man in box. He was a teenage rebel that stole a time machine in order to avoid a boring life. In a way, he was a hypocrite. He viewed himself as unimportant, but Scarlett knew better… so she did the same as he did hundreds of years ago on Gallifrey. She had the opportunity to turn a boring life into an entertaining one, so she made her own television show. The Doctor chuckled in the room as he realized what she did. Scarlett would do anything to not be bored, so she helped herself out. She made a television program for her own entertainment years before she became obsessed so that she could love watching television in the first place. Television would've been a bore unless she found the shows entertaining. It was a guaranteed arrangement if the show came from her own mind. Anything else would've been dull, and she'd never have become content with her life. Scarlett Bathurst was a clever one.

He slowly approached the controls and went back in time to the day that he took a 40 year old Scarlett away with him. He arrived a couple minutes after the two of them left. The Doctor pushed himself to open the front door of her house. She still had the television on. She didn't bother to turn it off when she heard the T.A.R.D.I.S. outside; she was much too excited at the time. He shuddered as he gazed at her favorite television program: 'Doctor Who'.

The Doctor buried Scarlett Bathurst in London, England in the year 2012. Moriarty didn't want Sir Arthur Conan Doyle remembered as the man who wrote the stories about Sherlock Holmes: a fictional character. Doctor John Watson, on the other hand, did want him remembered that way. With either point of view, Sherlock Holmes is still considered a fictional character. Scarlett was right; we're all stories in the end. She made it a reality for the main characters of her life: Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor. Sherlock gave up his existence to become a story: a legacy. She ensured that the Doctor was also remembered, even if that meant that he would be a fictional character; he was a story as well. No one on earth ever knew who he was since he wandered time and space. He has saved everyone's lives so many times, but no one knew he was even doing it. She wasn't about to let him wander off and not be remembered. Who knows? Maybe he'll be an influence to someone like Holmes was to Scarlett. The Doctor knew what Scarlett wanted out of her life. We're all stories in the end, and Scarlett realized what her story would be before she even started writing it: a tragedy and nothing more. The answer that she gave to him during her final moments was not only an answer as to where her tragic life was going but also where it stops. The Doctor made her gravestone himself. He never came back to visit her after that day… the day he buried Scarlett Bathurst and labeled her grave as:

Sherlock Holmes


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Scarlett Bathurst's Family Timeline**

**1853:** John H. Watson is born.

**1854:** Sherlock Holmes is born.

**1888:** John H. Watson gets engaged to Mary Morstan. She passes away after setting of the Sherlock Holmes story, 'The Final Problem' (By John H. Watson).

**1892:** Douglas Bathurst is born.

**1894:** John H. Watson marries Mary Louise Hawkins. She remains unnamed in the Sherlock Holmes stories because she left him. (Still married). She gave birth to his daughter that same year, but he was unaware.

**1894:** Emma Hawkins is born.

**1897:** John H. Watson falls in love with Jean Elizabeth Leckie.

**1906:** Mary Louise Hawkins dies of tuberculosis. Emma is given her mother's possessions and is left in an orphan's home.

**1907:** John H. Watson marries Jean Elizabeth Leckie but only maintains a platonic relationship with her. She is also left unnamed in the stories of Sherlock Holmes (By John H. Watson).

**1912:** Emma Hawkins marries Douglas Bathurst. Fakes pregnancy to rush marriage. Later that year, she really does get pregnant to Colonel Moriarty on steamship to America. Since the time between the trip and the wedding is so short, Douglas was told and believed this child to be his. He knows nothing of the affair.

**1913:** Emma Bathurst gives birth to Colonel's son. He remains unnamed.

**1949:** Unnamed Bathurst son marries unnamed woman.

**1954:** Scarlett Bathurst is born.

**1956:** Scarlett Bathurst's unnamed parents pass away. Reason for deaths are unknown.

**1976:** Douglas Bathurst passes away.

**1984:** Emma Bathurst passes away.

**2012:** Scarlett Bathurst passes away, according to history.


End file.
